Faladar
by TheTV-Junkie
Summary: After the incidental and life-threatening loss of the bigger part of his hair, Legolas finds himself at the hands of a very appalled Thranduil who's trying to restore his precious son's tresses with ancient magic. However, the ritual goes awry, unleashing deeply denied feelings and intense forbidden urges between father and son.
1. A Hairy Situation

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created by JRR Tolkien and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters/situations/events happening are copyrighted by their respective owners. No money is being made from this fic and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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 **A/N:** Hello dear readers and Thrandolas shippers! This is the first joint venture fic of Doitsuki and TheTVJunkie, based on an utterly shameless roleplay between the two authors. Due to the fact that said roleplay is still in progress, we cannot guarantee weekly updates but will try to keep you entertained on a regular basis. But beware - This story contains a lot of explicit naughtiness and will probably get even more scandalous as it progresses (Yeah, we're proud of that). :D Ideas/suggestions/comments/kudos welcome. Flamers, get lost. Everybody else - enjoy!^^

 **Additional Tags:** #Unresolved Sexual Tension #Sexual Awakening #Suggestive Awakening (see definition for details) #Intercrural Sex #Frottage #Dry Humping #Incest Father-Son Relationship #Thrandolas-Freeform #Overprotective!Thranduil #Possessive!Thranduil #Manipulative Thranduil #Insecure!Legolas # More tags to be added as the story proceeds #Magic

 **Definition of 'Suggestive Awakening':** Encouraging mild debauchery to the point where it becomes perfectly natural to accept one's inner needs, no matter how depraved they are. Some scenes might appear dub/noncon-ish at first, but no true harm will be done. It's rather a 'push in the right direction' to be able to revel in one's secret cravings without remorse.

 _Lines in italics are thoughts/inner monologue._

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Thranduil sat alone one evening upon his throne, glass of wine in hand. It was always like this these days - he would relax amongst thick silken robes with loyal servants near to attend his every need... and his son would be nowhere to be found. He could not understand for all his wisdom and mental might why Legolas was away from home so often. The Prince saw something in the sickened forest and sought to cure it, Thranduil supposed. Or he was just addicted to fresh air.

 _'Pah. Here it is fine enough, dark and cozy.'_ His thoughts swam like fish through honey, not quite getting through to where he wanted to focus. Slow and drearily, Thranduil yawned. All he could do was gaze at the amber-lit crevices and winding paths leading away from his throne, and hope his son walked there. _'Ai, Legolas... where are you? If you are dead, I shall hunt you to the Halls of Mandos. We will see who is the brave adventurer then...!'_

He downed the rest of his wine in a gulp, then held the glass out for more. His mood was already turning sour... unlike all that he'd indulged in that night, mainly chocolates and red wine. Proper food had no place at dinner when Legolas was not there to share it with.

Nothing felt right to Thranduil without his son.

Meanwhile, Legolas tentatively peeked around the corner of a nearby corridor which led to the throne room. He reached for his silken hair with one shaky hand, flinching as if burnt when reality came crashing down on him. His formerly lengthy tresses now ended unevenly at chin-length; thanks to some horrible incident in the depths of Mirkwood earlier that day. Sniffing, the prince inwardly cringed at the prospect of the verbal lashing he expected from his father, the ever stern and utterly handsome King. Thranduil's vanity was legendary after all, so having his son lose the beau ideal of long, perfect hair was beyond excuse, Legolas was sure of that. Even worse, he was probably in for a grounding of at least a hundred years of more, now that his overprotective Ada's fears of his precious son getting hurt on one of his stupid little adventures had proven well-founded.

 _'Why does Ada always have to be right?'_ The prince mused while he reluctantly made his way through the halls, silently cursing to himself in frustration. Pulling the hood of his tunic over his head in a desperate attempt to hide his hair, Legolas seriously hoped for his father to be either already asleep at this late hour or too tipsy to realise the full extent of the whole debacle and simply dismiss him.

 _'Or maybe I could see a healer tomorrow? Helping me out of this predicament, with nobody ever being any the wiser?'_ A pious hope, he had to admit.

Either way, procrastination didn't help the young prince's predicament now, so all he could do was hope for the best and get through with it. Crossing the throne-room, he finally stepped before the Elven King, humbly bowing his head. 'Adar, I have returned.'

At the sound of light footsteps and then lowered voice, Thranduil rose from his throne. A full wine glass was in his right hand as he made his way down the stairs, hips swaying with each heavy step. Gravity was lost on him now – the sight of Legolas lifted his heart and gave the feeling of weightlessness to his head.

"Iôn nín…" he purred, crossing the room in a few long strides. "You are late." There was no set time for Legolas to give his reports, but it was generally not this late that he made his appearance. Thranduil relished the taste of a long, sweet draught of wine before handing the glass to a nearby servant. Then all his focus went to his son. Due to his height he had to bend a little, for his body remained as close as was proper in public to his son… close enough for Legolas to smell the faint aroma of Thranduil's flowery shampoo.

"Ohh… I have worried terribly this night. Where have you been, and what have you been up to? Come, let me see your face." He made to press his hand beneath Legolas' chin, intending to let the hood fall away and give way to the beautiful face he so loved. There was a prickling sensation in the back of his mind that nagged at his eternal calm, telling him that something was wrong. One look at Legolas' face would reveal that.

Quickly averting his gaze, the young prince recoiled from his father's well-meant, soft touch. "I'm fine." He muttered feebly. "Have been losing track of time, I think."

Thranduil's icy, penetrating gaze always gave Legolas chills, unease creeping up in him every time he was around his father as of late, hence he fled from the palace whenever the opportunity arose. Furthermore, there was some odd heat stirring in his lower belly he could not fathom and that unnerved him greatly. Confusion, fear and guilt gnawed on him all the same as he took one hasty step back, the sudden urge to run and hide so overwhelming that at first he didn't even realise that his hasty movement had caused his tunic's hood to slip from his head in its wake, revealing the full extent of his ruined hair he was so desperate to hide. Instantly, the young blonde's eyes darted back to the King in horror, freezing in place.

 _'I'm screwed.'_

The gentle murmurs of a drunken King ceased to a single, short breath. Thranduil gripped his son's shoulder and held the cut sections of Legolas' hair in his other hand. It felt so... scratchy, and that translated to pain in the mind of the elf who was surrounded by softness all day. Sure, Legolas had silky and shining hair but now it had been carelessly hacked off and... concealed.

"You.. tried to hide this from me? HOW COULD YOU?" His thunderous voice combined with sudden burning, threatening presence caused a few guards and servants nearby to shiver. In a swift motion he grabbed the back of Legolas' collar and started dragging him down the path, staggering a little. "You could have DIED out there and now you try to deceive me! Why? You want to perish in the forest and leave your Ada alone, is that it?" His grip of ice left little room for escape, unless Legolas wished to use violence and bite Thranduil's hand off. The golden palace doors loomed up ahead, where the cavernous Woodland Realm lead into a decadent home for the royal folk. The doors were opened by two obedient servants, neither daring to look their King in the eye. Thranduil only continued ranting at Legolas, hysterical.

 _'He could have died. I will lose him if I don't do something soon. No. He will not leave me. Not again. He is all I have left... and all I want.'_

Being scolded like some small elfling who stole the last biscuit from a tin made the prince's cheeks flush in an even redder shade of embarrassment. Legolas struggled to free himself from his overdramatic father's iron grip, but to no avail. "Ada please," He tried to defend himself, suddenly sick to his stomach at the fact that said stirring in his lower regions only intensified as he was manhandled.

"It's only hair, it will grow back!" The prince whined, fearing his reasoning would fall on deaf ears just as it had many times before. Winning an argument against the Elvenking was close to impossible.

"I've not been in mortal danger at any time!" He fruitlessly continued his reassurances. Almost stumbling over his own feet when he was shoved roughly through the door that lead to his Ada's chambers, the younger blonde eventually lost his temper. "And THIS is why I had to hide this incident from you!" Legolas gestured wildly as he tried once more to break free. "THIS! YOU! Patronising me, smothering me with your ever present need to control my every step!" He spat, fresh tears welling in the shaking prince's beautiful eyes. "Assuming I will effectively end up dead out there, you will have no-one to blame but yourself, Adar, since it is you who's driving me away from the palace in the first place!"

The moment the harsh words left his lips, Legolas already regretted his furious outburst. This was so unlike him at all!

 _'Oh Valar, what is wrong with me?'_ The prince trembled when a howling attack hit him, rendering further conversation impossible for the time being. Little did he know that it was neither the lack of freedom nor hair that had elicited his hysterical fit but something that rooted much deeper inside his psyche, something that had been lingering beneath the surface for many years, hidden away in the darkest corner of his immortal soul. Sleeping. Waiting. Burning.

Thranduil was fuming as Legolas spat words at him but soon realized the source of his son's irrational behaviour. The loss of his hair was probably draining what little sanity he had left until his mind collapsed – and Thranduil wasn't going to have any of that.

He threw his outer robes to the floor and swept Legolas into his arms, tackling the prince to the bed.

' _Stop your crying, and stay still. I must fix this. Now.'_ The longer Legolas went without attention to his hair, the worse it would become – and Thranduil didn't know how long Legolas had hidden this from him. He scrambled to sit on Legolas' stomach, forcing the prince to lie on his back.

"You must stay very still, my son. Your hair…it must be healed…or your mind will wither." The exact intricacies of what would happen were lost to Thranduil's tipsy mind, but the urgency was there. He'd heard and understood however what Legolas had said prior – that if he died in the forest, it was to be the King's fault for pushing him away.

' _Look how I hold you now, close to my heart. How can you wound me so?'_

Providing Legolas remained still enough, Thranduil would slide his fingers through that gorgeous golden blonde and begin to stroke. His magical energy was strong within his body as he'd not used it for some time, and restoring his son's health at cost of his own was easy enough to do. It required… some degree of concentration, though. Something a panicking, near frozen Elvenking was finding difficult to do.

He knew not what was going through his son's mind as he straddled him, squeezing Legolas' sides with his thighs. The tight grey leggings he wore did little to hide his warm, soft figure and his clenching muscles could clearly be felt. His entire body straining, he reached for his son's hair.

For a second, Legolas was stunned into horrified silence. His father's weight upon him, muscled thighs pressing against his hips made the prince squirm reflexively, worryingly aware that he would never be able to dislodge the much stronger elf. Legolas's stomach tightened painfully at the conflicting reactions of his mind and body, the latter seemingly acting on its own accord, beyond excited by the illicit friction created between himself and his father. It took all of Legolas' remaining self-command to will down his slowly building erection, mentally loathing his treacherous body for acting this way. To his Ada's touch. AND to being treated so roughly.

 _'I am doomed.'_

His mind, however, despite all his desire for freedom, ached for the warmth and physical closeness Legolas was used to as an elfling. Comforting and soothing, the feeling of utter safety that he used to experience in his father's arms, sitting on the mighty King's lap as he was showered with fondness and affection. Innocent affection.

Emotionally cornered, Legolas decided on complying and, pushing all disturbing thoughts aside for the moment, remained still.

"I'm sorry about what I said, I didn't mean it." He admitted truthfully, still a little tense but gradually relaxing as he felt his tresses being stroked with such care. Like the old times. The prince felt himself arching into the fond gesture, closing his eyes. "Why would my mind wither?"

Legolas wasn't in the slightest aware of the severity of his situation; he had assumed this was all about Thranduil being Thranduil, overprotective and a drama queen.

Thranduil did not answer his son and leaned over him. His shimmering hair formed a curtain of silver and gold about Legolas' head, blocking any view of the room. Gone was the rich red canopy of the bed, now replaced with Thranduil's pretty face. Contorted in worry it was, but still with enough control for him to appear as he wished. Now, he looked deep into Legolas' eyes and bent his head until their noses touched. Then he began to whisper. This was no common healing chant, rather something that would transfer his own energy into his son's body. Legolas would not die, nor would his mind shrivel from all that he had lost today. Warmth glowed at Thranduil's fingertips, continuing to stroke hair down, until in the passing minutes he felt himself grow weak. But still he whispered, allowing Legolas' hair to grow in rich golden locks down to his chest. Then Thranduil's lips brushed against his son's… and he closed his eyes.

' _It is done.'_

Legolas couldn't help but shiver as his world closed in around him, leaving nothing but his beautiful Ada hovering above him. Concern was clearly written all over his face and it was just now that realisation came crushing down on the young prince. Obviously, Thranduil had not been jesting about Legolas being in mortal danger for losing his hair, this was not one of his wine-influenced Ada's infamous habit of making a fuss about nothing.

The moment their noses touched, the younger blonde's eyes fluttered shut as his mind revelled in the familiarity of closeness, the shivering subsiding. Mesmerised by the melodious incantation, Legolas felt the magic kick in as a comfortable warmth spread from his scalp to the very tips of his increasingly re-growing hair.

Eyes still closed, Legolas could have sworn he had felt the King's smooth lips ghosting over his own but then quickly dismissed the thought, fearing his corrupted mind to play tricks on him and heading for the gutter once again.

 _'Stop it, he's only helping you.'_ He reprimanded himself bitterly.

Thranduil wished to remain there for a little longer and he did, the welcoming silk of his bed sheets comfortable enough to rest upon. He placed most of his weight atop Legolas, his head falling into the space between the prince's shoulder and neck.

His breath could hardly be felt, a mere flutter of heat against Legolas' skin.

' _Just a short rest… a few minutes. He will survive… he must…'_

Thranduil collapsed upon the prince, leaving the latter gasping in surprise. Legolas' eyes flew open instantly, alarmed.

"Ada?" Legolas whispered, the King's weak breath close to non existing. "Ada, are you alright?" He added, more urgency to his voice this time. No reply.

Panicking, the prince grabbed his Ada by the shoulders, shaking him best he could from underneath his father's dead weight. "Ada, please wake up!"

Legolas' hair had not exactly reached perfect and proper length but Thranduil had done his best, now completely exhausted. The moment his lips had touched his son's, his concentration had wavered… and in that second, something happened. He knew not what it was, however. All that mattered now was the peace… the closeness… and ah, Legolas was speaking to him, and he had to respond.

"...Mngh..." All he could manage was a feeble groan. His hands were losing heat the longer they remained still, so he stuck them under his body. He felt Legolas shaking him, his own head rolling back and forth… then he fell to one side. Gazing through a blur, he felt a warmth in his chest the longer he looked at his son. Only for a few minutes could his eyes remain open before a deep sleep pulled him into unconsciousness. Before he lost himself however, he pressed a hand to his son's chest. He wished to let Legolas know that they would both be alright, and that he was not dying any more, despite feeling so himself. So drained of energy he was, only comfort called him now rather than immediate duty. He had saved his son from certain slow and painful death… but what he'd done to himself was yet to be discovered.

Legolas let out a sigh of relief at his father's response, weak as it was but unmistakable in its intent of all-clear. He wearily smiled at his father when Thranduil rolled off of him, coming to rest at his son's side. The prince raised his hand and gently tucked a wayward strand of the King's soft hair behind his pointy ear.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Ada." He whispered, refraining from emphasising his gratitude by giving him a peck on the cheek, fearing his own body's reaction. Instead, he reached for the King's bejewelled fingers, humbly kissing the back of his hand.

Even in this utterly exhausted state the Elvenking remained an epitome of grace and elegancy, briefly leaving Legolas to wonder if that's what his Ada looked liked after engaging in the throes of passion. His inappropriate train of thought was soon interrupted though as the young blonde noticed that his father's slight shivering, the King's eye growing heavy and slowly closing in obvious exhaustion.

Legolas hadn't noticed the odd glance his father had shot him only seconds ago as he concentrated on the hand that was pressed to his chest in reassurance. A cold hand, Legolas noted with concern...

Tucking the two of them up in the heavy brocaded, fur-laced blanket, Legolas snuggled as close as possible to his beloved Ada, wishing to warm him with his own body heat. Oddly enough, this was the only time his mind spared him dirty images popping up before his inner eye, condescendingly letting the prince drift into a dreamless sleep.

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 **A/N:** Thanks for reading. We'd be happy if you shared your thoughts with us! :))

A short explanation on the title: Faladar (fail-la-dare, origin: Silver Elves) - A sense of something impending...either something about to happen or something that needs to be done. - We are aware that this is not particularly Tolkien Elvish but since it suited so nicely with our storyline we thought it fit to use it as a working title. However, the final story title might change over the course of this roleplay. :D


	2. In Vino Veritas - In Wine There Is Truth

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created by JRR Tolkien and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters/situations/events happening are copyrighted by their respective owners. No money is being made from this fic and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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 **Chapter Summary:** Thranduil loves two things - wine and his son. Both taste good and warm his body. What happens when the two are combined? ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡° )

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Thranduil knew not whether he was awake or not – but all he could feel was the silk of his own sheets against his bare skin. He'd torn his clothes off during the night, and it was an odd heat that pulled him from sleep this morning. As always, he clung to what dreams he'd held in the night. These particular dreams were of his son, the very same that lay beside him now. He could still feel Legolas' warmth, and was grateful for it. Sleeping alone or with a bedwarmer really couldn't compare to his own son.

His dreams licked at the corners of his mind, pushing wet tongues and sweet words around his head. He could feel an irritating tingle by his ears, and a certain emptiness in the pit of his stomach that imitated hunger. With his half-remembered dreams, a few ideas on what he wanted for breakfast danced through his mind. Then again, he had little need to ask for anything – there was usually a small feast prepared for him whenever he wished to eat.

Thranduil swatted lazily at his chest, where the lustrous sheets bothered his nipples. Oversensitive and with sinking mood, he groaned.

 _'Oh, what is this…? Have I been cursed in my sleep for failing to look after my son? Mrgnh. I want to go back to sleep…'_

As the King, he could of course do whatever he liked… but there were meetings that called him today, the usual council fare of 'what's up in Mirkwood' and 'Who needs to die for what'. Thranduil just did _not_ care today. Wine and comfort was all he wanted… and the latter included his son's presence.

He threw an arm over Legolas, eyes still closed. The act lessened the gnawing annoyances all over his body, but did little to sate his inner empty heat. For now, it was good enough…

For the first time in a long time Legolas slept like a baby. All tension and guilty feelings seemed to have fallen away from him, erased from his troubled mind the second his father's magic had taken care of his mutilated hair. Waking at night, the young blonde lay pondering for a good while, still nestled in his Ada's embrace. Much to the prince's relief, he didn't sport a straining hard-on resulting from such close proximity, even now that the elder elf had apparently struggled free from his robes in his sleep. Instead, Legolas relished the unconcernedly skin-on-skin contact in all its innocent nature and was beyond grateful for the sensation of protectiveness and warmth that came with it.

 _'Maybe it has been my fault in the first place that my mind got corrupted?!'_ He wondered, still trying to drill down on the insidious change of emotions towards Thranduil as of recently. _'Hmm...perhaps if I hadn't rebuffed his attention so vehemently, my mind hadn't twisted it into something so...illicit?'_

Dozily, he turned his head towards his sleeping adar, happy to find no trace of sexual attraction towards him whatsoever. "This is all my fault, Ada. I'm so sorry." He murmured before sleepiness was descending on him once again.

Unfortunately, the poor prince hadn't the faintest idea that his problem was far from solved, his urges simply temporarily suppressed since by the magical transfer of the Elvenking's strength he had also transmitted another of his many enviable abilities: Remarkable self-control.

Thranduil was properly woken by a knock on the door, the first sign that he was needed elsewhere. He practically had to shove himself out of bed to get going, leaving his precious son alone. Fancy robes and one fine crown later, he left for what would become a breakfast meeting. However, he found that the longer he was paying attention, the less patience he had for the matters discussed. That heat inside him was boiling his blood, he felt. Sensations caused by no external source tickled all over his body until finally he zoned out and began to dream. Unfortunately, his dreams consisted of Legolas in all sorts of compromising positions along with a beautiful voice asking for sinful things. Thranduil crossed one leg over the other and made various attempts to distract himself... for the entire day.

By the time the afternoon came around, Thranduil was free to look after his most pressing needs.

' _What is wrong with me today?_ ' he thought as he took himself in hand, alone in his study. _'All I have been able to think about... Legolas, and his gentle touch... amongst other things._ ' Lying to himself was all he could do, before he had to admit what he felt for his son. It had been this way for centuries, something he'd hidden for propriety's sake. Now it seemed it was all coming back to bite him. Thranduil found no pleasure in himself this night, much to his horror. It was such a terrible, pressing need that he actually considered going to Legolas. His own flesh and blood, that which had consumed his entire life.

' _Something is definitely not right_.' But he had no clue what.

After making himself decent by way of covering up all that he could, Thranduil stood and called for a servant. Faithful Galion came to him and spotted Thranduil dramatically sprawled on the couch just by the desk.

"What can I do for you, your Majesty?"

"Fetch me Legolas... and speak of no urgency. I command it." Thranduil tilted his head back and allowed his hair to spill down the side of the couch, watching his butler's face. Galion only bowed and left to do as ordered. As he walked down the hall he wondered just what Thranduil wanted with his son. The King hadn't been very attentive today and seemed oddly aggressive when spoken to. He'd not been able to calm down even when plied with wine, and a few crystal goblets had met the floor in a brilliant explosion once dropped.

Galion knocked on Legolas' door, hoping he was in there. It was late and he didn't feel much like searching the entire palace for the sneaky prince, even if it was Thranduil's will that lead him to do so. "Your Highness, are you in there? Your father wishes to speak with you..."

Galion's urgent knocking woke Legolas from the nap he was taking on his bed. His day had been rather uneventful, filled with reading, a very relaxing bath including extensive grooming and lots and lots of gluttony. Since the prince's belly was no longer in knots from shame, Legolas took great joy in appeasing his hunger with all sorts of sweet pastries and other confectionery until he feared his stomach would burst from the fullness if he ate just one more piece. Lazily, he had skimmed through a few pages of his favourite tome before making himself comfortable on the sheets. Since sleep no longer evaded the pretty elf, it was only a matter of seconds before fatigue crept over his limps and he had dozed off.

After a luxurious stretch, Legolas rubbed his eyes as he crossed the room to answer the heavy oaken door.

"Yes Galion, what is it?" He asked, not having heard the butler's words before.

"My prince, your father wishes to speak to you. He's waiting for you in his study." Galion explained, gesturing for Legolas to attend to the matter without delay, though not wording any urgency.

Still a little drowsy, Legolas scrubbed his tummy absentmindedly. There was no need for him to keeping up appearances in front of Galion, the royal family's long-time trusted servant and confidant.

"Do you know the reason for my summoning?" The prince ask he let the door of his room click shut behind him, heading towards his father's quarters with languid steps.

"No." Galion replied matter-of-factly, walking the prince to Thranduil's study. "His majesty did not care to elaborate further, I'm afraid."

"Hm. Alright then, thank you. Goodnight, Galion." Legolas bid the faithful butler goodbye, then tapped his knuckles against his father's opulent door.

Legolas poked his head in, entering. The study was painted in a warm orange colour, a small fire burning in the hearth nearby the couch Thranduil had draped himself on. Ancient books lined the walls, heavy tomes that held many an Elven mystery, crammed into ornate bookshelves. Legolas was very fond of this room, nostalgic memories flooding his mind when he recalled how much time he used to spend here when he was just a small elfling. Always at his Ada's side, or rather his feet at that time, playing with some wooden toys or hiding between the drapes of his father's extensive robes while the king had attended to affairs of state. Not once had he been sent away in favour or regal obligations. Not _once_.

It took the prince a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dimness in the room but when the crackling flames, low and sputtering, cast flickering shadows over the ethereal appearance that was his awe-inspiring adar, he couldn't help but smile admiringly, yet thankfully with no unsettling stirring in his loins as he did so.

"You sent for me?" Legolas said cheerfully, casually striding over to Thranduil.

Thranduil's gaze undressed Legolas with every step forth the prince took. "Mm, yes. Come over here." He patted the free space he'd made just for Legolas to sit in, propping himself up on one elbow. Inside he could feel a steady pulse reaching for Legolas, the tension in his body eager to release. Just a little closer and... with a bit more time... Then he would be able to finally touch his son.

 _'I have to be careful not to scare him away... aye, but my patience wears thin_.' Thranduil's mind was filled with thoughts of all that he could do to Legolas, just to ease his own stress. The couch was nice and soft, easy enough to pin him to... and the nearby desk had a hard edge that could prove more painful than stimulating. Thranduil considered how Legolas would react if he grabbed him and bent him over the desk, pressing up against his own clothed form. ' _Would he fight me?'_

He continued to stare, hair slowly trickling over his shoulders. All he wore was a tight silver robe with grey leggings that left little to the imagination. One leg was crossed over the other, a thigh hiding his potential indecency. He couldn't help the excitement that rushed through him at the sight of his son... The only thing, he felt, that could save him from his torment.

Unsuspectingly, the young prince sat down next to his father, slumping onto the couch unceremoniously. Light-heartedly, he played with a strand of his blond locks. "Thanks again for re-growing my hair, Ada. I don't know what kind of fantastic magic you've been using but let me tell you that I haven't felt that great _in weeks_. That incantation came with some nice side-effects for which I'm eternally grateful for, you know."

He smiled up at the king once more, glad that Thranduil made no move to inquire further. Instead, his father gave Legolas a somewhat...peculiar look that started to slightly fluster the younger elf. "Now tell me," Legolas tried again, unaware that he was bringing up quite the painful subject. Painful in _more_ than one way, that is. "How's been _your_ day?"

Thranduil blinked a few times then spoke slowly, rising a little more so he could sit up with his face close to his son's.

"It has... Not been the best." If there was one thing Thranduil could do at all hours of the day, it was complain. He nuzzled into Legolas' neck, discreetly taking a breath of the prince's fresh, sweet scent there. The effect it had in dispelling his agitation left him momentarily wordless. Then he explained. "Long and arduous meetings have left me wanting for a little comfort... and I have worried about you, as I always do." He did not want to just blatantly whine, not now when he needed his son close. "The council would not just shut up and not even wine could save me from such torment. All I could think of was whether you were alright or not... But now I see, it seems I have done well enough." To emphasise his words he gently ran a hand through Legolas' hair, breathing out his satisfaction in a quiet huff. His lips warmed a spot on Legolas' neck, just below his jaw where a strip of muscle began. His other hand trailed between thick and lustrous golden strands, sneakily tracing a finger down the back of Legolas' ear. Thranduil hoped his son had the same erogenous zones as him. He knew for sure that a touch to his own ears was all he needed to get going.

A shiver rippled through Legolas' body when Thranduil's soft fingers came in contact with the prince's sensitive ears, his baser instinct telling him to lean into the touch and simply enjoy the highly stimulating effect it had on him. Holding his breath, the young elf's eyes fluttered shut for a second, but when a guttural moan threatened to escape his lips, Legolas snapped back to reality, terrified at his own instant reaction to such seemingly harmless contact.

 _'Holy crap, what was that?'_

Jumping to his feet in a hasty retreat, the prince hissed in pain when Thranduil's fancy rings got unintentionally caught up in his son's blonde strands, tugging sharply in their wake. Legolas' scalp tingled at the sensation and much to his horror, some depraved part of him seemed to thrive on the pain. Or was it rather the person that had inflicted it? Or both?

 _'Oh no no no, I don't need any more stimulation as it is!'_

Nervously, Legolas reached for the wine bottle that sat on the table next to the couch. "I'm sorry to hear you had a bad day, Ada." The prince poured a glass of wine with shaky hands, careful not to look his father in the eye. "How about some liquid comfort?"

"I believe it is _you_ who needs it." Thranduil flexed his fingers, already missing his touch against Legolas. "You are shaking." Nevertheless he allowed Legolas to pour a glass, but did not accept it for himself. "Drink, and calm yourself."

 _'Ah… he is too far from me now… if only I could reach out and grab him… pull him here… he would fall, spill the wine, and come into my arms.'_ A very soft sigh with a little moan underneath fell from Thranduil's parted lips. Now that Legolas was near, the longing in Thranduil's body only grew as if it knew of the chance at tasting its desires. Closing his eyes, Thranduil stilled his near quivering fingers. Then he spoke again.  
"Tell me of your day… what has you so highly strung?"

A little unsure, Legolas considered Thranduil's words. Unlike his father, the prince was no habitual drunkard and he knew that the king preferred only the most full-bodied, headiest sorts of Dorwinion wine to have at his personal disposal. Hence, the alcohol would most likely go instantly to the young elf's head...

 _'Oh bollocks to that! Maybe this is just what I need right now?'_

Determined, he downed his liquid courage in one large gulp. Grimacing at its potent aftertaste, Legolas sat down on the edge of the couch again, a little further away from his Ada this time, though.

"Meh, I don't know," The prince said, referring to the earlier question. "All I basically did today was lounging and stuffing myself with food." He guiltily patted the little swell of his belly. "Nothing much, really."

Legolas would rather have the ground to open up and swallow him before he would confess his...funny emotions towards Thranduil.

 _'Maybe I'm only imagining things?'_ The prince wondered briefly, feeling the wine starting to gradually relax and unwind him.

The King shifted from where he sat and went closer to Legolas, uncaring for distance or personal space.

"I wish I could have taken your place." said Thranduil, carefully sneaking his hands around Legolas' waist. "Perhaps I shall do that tomorrow… less work and a little more indulgence, hm?" He shifted to rest his head on the prince's shoulder and peered at him from beneath his eyebrows. Ah, there was that handsome face, delicious scent and soft hair he loved so much. The wine had a bit of work to do before he dared to go further, but at least he'd gotten a bit of a feel. His fingers traced the seams of Legolas' clothes, seeking openings where he might find warm skin. His own hands weren't too cold as the room was of a decent temperature, the kind that invited lazy relaxation before hard work.

As he explored his hands dared to go lower. If Legolas didn't shoo him away, he was going to grope a bit… and hope to tease him too.

"Aye, you definitely should." Legolas mumbled wearily, the potency of the wine already dulling his reflexes and silencing the tense little voice in the back of his mind that had literally screamed at him to remain cautious only minutes ago. Tiredness started to creep over him, the pleasant warmth of his father's study and the continuous, soothing sound of the crackling fire lulling him into a state of utter contentment and false security. Legolas was only vaguely aware of the hand that had sneakily snaked around his waist, pulling him closer.

 _'Mmmm...this is nice.'_ He thought dreamily as he inhaled the flowery scent of his father's soft hair, now that Thranduil's head rested on the prince's shoulder. Legolas even leaned his own head against his father's with a contented sigh, both their silky tresses mingling, the flames casting a warm glow on the two elves as they sat in intimate togetherness.

It took him quite some time to become fully aware of the fact that Thranduil's hand had meanwhile roamed from Legolas' waist to his outer thigh and now back up...to his inner thigh. The prince furrowed a brow but did not budge.

 _'Ooh... it's working..._ ' Thranduil praised himself inwardly for his supreme relaxation skills and couldn't hold out for much longer. He dipped his head into Legolas' neck, turning from the prince's shoulder to kiss him. He whispered sweet nothings into Legolas' ear, his voice demure in spite of internal strain. One leg joined the hand upon Legolas' thigh as Thranduil tilted his hips, adjusted himself and half straddled his son. Trapped in tight, thin fabric, his arousal came into contact with Legolas. The way he had his legs parted allowed for a bit of sneaky rubbing, enough to set his balls aflame. He had no intention of exploding however and pushed his son's upper body back, a little forceful in shoving him into the couch.

In a single swift movement he seated himself in Legolas' lap, knees on either side of his son's body. There he could press himself up against Legolas and look into his face.

"Legolas..." he murmured, unable to keep the smile away from his lips "I've thought of you all day..."

Legolas gasped in surprise when he found himself on his back all of a sudden, held down by Thranduil's weight atop him. It was a bit of a Déjà vu to the night his father had re-grown the prince's hair yet the one, major difference was that there had been no thinly veiled hard-on poking his soft underbelly, neither could Legolas recall the king rubbing shamelessly against him.

Initially led by instinct, the young elf found it actually did feel good, re-awakening the heat in his lower abdomen at alarming speed. But then again his guilty conscience successfully cut its way through his alcohol-fogged mind, moral sense and panic starting to get the better of him. Wriggling in a fruitless attempt to free himself somewhat half-heartedly, Legolas slightly slurred.

"Ada...? What is the meaning of this?!" Desperation and fear clearly resonated in his voice. "Please get off me, will you?"

The tone in Legolas' voice would've made any elf with sense retreat and apologise. But Thranduil was far beyond sense when it came to this kind of tension in his body, that which he felt was tearing him apart the longer he left it alone. He cared not to rationalise anything or even stop to think what he was doing.

"No..." He growled against his son's lips and pressed them together with his own. "Mmmn..."

 _'Just let me do what I must.'_

He suspected the only way he could find peace was to take pleasure in his son's body, and the more he thought on it the more sense it made. Here he had his beautiful, soft prince so pliable and sweet beneath him. It was unlikely Legolas would remember this in too much detail... so Thranduil wanted to enjoy himself before his chance was gone.

He began to grind against Legolas' stomach, his hips naturally rolling in all the most sensual ways. Up and down, in and out, around in nice tight circles. If not for his breeches trapping his cock, Thranduil would have painted his son's skin with his own lust. Dripping and hard, he allowed the day's tension to seek slow release. Every nerve was relaxing the further he touched, kissed and rubbed. All he felt however was need.

 _'Ohhhh, this is not right…'_ Legolas' guilty conscience tried again before it eventually crumbled and went out of the window for good under the onslaught of Thranduil's sensual doings.

The prince gave a soft sigh, his formerly tight-pressed lips now willingly opening for further intrusion. His arms wrapped around his father's torso seemingly of their own accord, the young elf clinging to Thranduil in helpless surrender. Before long, Legolas found his hips mimicking his father's heated moves, so eager for friction but nothing seemed sufficient to ease the reawakened fire in his groin. His eyes fluttering shut at the intensity of it all, desperate mewls and frantic groans fell from the prince's lips. All that pent up sexual tension he had been harbouring for his beloved Ada for so long appeared to have bubbled to the surface now that it was no longer anchored by guilt and shame, threatening to burst any minute.

Thranduil smirked against his son's lips before delving his tongue into Legolas' mouth. Unrestrained passion heated and fierce came forth in every movement he made.

Curiously, Legolas let the slippery muscle explore the inside of his mouth. It felt odd yet added positively to his ever-growing excitement. All this was new to him and far beyond everything he had ever dared to dream, based on the limited knowledge, let alone experience he had managed to gather at his relatively young age. Physically, he was an adult alright by Elven standards but by means of understanding and attending to his body's desires he was adolescent at best. Pure and untouched. Save for a few stray incestuous longings, of course.

"Do you see how I want you, ion nîn?" Thranduil gasped against Legolas' lips as he leaned back to draw breath. "Aah..."

The moment he heard his Ada's breathy words, Legolas' heart skipped a beat and he gave a tiny whimper. His deep-seated fear of being rejected for his illicit cravings by the one person he loved most in all Arda vanished into thin air. All he could do was nod, endless relief evident all over his beautiful features. "Gi melin, Ada." He whispered, hardly audible.

At Legolas' words of admiration Thranduil felt a swell of joy lift his heart. He could only moan something incoherently in reply, long past the capacity for words. _'I do not know... why this need has taken me so suddenly... come morning he will think me mad for what I will do... if he remembers._ ' Thranduil reached back, grabbed the bottle of wine and showed it to his son.

"Come, drink more. I will not have any inhibitions hindering us this night." It was a quick attempt at something seductive, though all Thranduil wanted was for more wine to go into his son. What if this need came again, and Legolas was unwilling? Suspicious even, to drink and relax?

 _'I cannot have that. He must be completely inebriated before we begin...'_ Without even knowing, he'd begun to rut against Legolas in his desperation. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, making it difficult for him to spin honeyed words into his son's ear. All he could do was hope Legolas could get drunk enough... before they both went mad.

When the prince felt the intoxicating effect of the Dorwinion slowly subsiding, he gratefully accepted the wine bottle his father offered. "Alright, Ada." He replied obediently, beaming at Thranduil but still slurring. "More wine, if that's your wish."

༻✨❀✨༺

Legolas downed almost three quarters of the bottle's content in a few gulps, the heady alcohol making quick work of any remaining or newly budding worries, clouding the prince's head once again in blissful carefreeness, relaxation and lust.

Thranduil slowed his motions to a swaying of hips in Legolas' lap as the prince drank, watching those glistening lips close around the bottle. Oh, how he himself had drunk in similar fashion not so long ago. The time for sobriety would not soon come upon him while he still had sense. Now, Legolas could taste in the heightened pleasures a good drink provided. That, and the impending plunder of his entire body by the King. Here at Thranduil's whims, Legolas had little place for guilt and shame. The King held no such feelings within himself and soon found his need pressing achingly against his breeches - too much for his liking. He undid the laces as quickly as he dared, allowing his length to spring free.

Eyes widening, the younger elf watched the king revealing his aching arousal, mesmerised at the sight that was presented to him. Heavy and bobbing proudly, it bested Legolas' length by far and when the king started rutting against his son, the young elf shuddered in sheer wonder as he suddenly found his rear end leaking with self-lubrication, his little puckered hole clenching and unclenching.

 _'This is new?!_ ' He thought to himself excitedly while fumbling clumsily with the laces of his own breeches.

Thranduil caught sight of Legolas' attempts to free himself and ripped those fumbling hands away. With a low growl he tore the strings and a bit of cloth away, immediately moving to palm the prince's cock in one hand. The other roved beneath Legolas' tunic, feeling the curve of smooth flesh with open lust. Unable to express clear order, he shoved Legolas to rest his head upon the soft couch cushions.

 _'I would seek to see skin bared and decency removed...'_ he thought, the scent of sweet arousal driving him to purpose. He scraped off his own tight breeches until they pooled at his knees, and he took a few moments to cast them away. He wore no shoes while in the palace, so there was no need for excessive task. Thranduil gazed upon Legolas with a fierce hunger like acid burning in his eyes.

Careful not to soil the expensive cover of the couch, Legolas let go of the bottle, the remnants of the Dorwinion rolling to the floor. There was so much unspoken promise in his father's dilated pupils as he had watched him drink, leaving the prince wondering if there had been some obscene aspect to him suckling at the bottle without even realising it?

He wasn't given the chance of entertaining that particular train of thought any longer, though, a delicious thrill shooting through him that took any remainder of coherent thought from him when his organ came to twitch in the king's soft palm. He didn't mind his own fingers being swatted away. The young blonde purred when he felt an additional warm hand roam his chest greedily, making him moan as the fingers kept creeping upward. Thranduil's husky growl tickled the delicate shell of Legolas' pointy ear as he breathed against his lobe, causing the prince's arousal to become even more pronounced, inevitably hardening to full capacity under the king's deft ministrations.

Feverishly, Legolas shrugged out of his tunic as best he could, removing the offending fabric until it lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to the almost empty wine bottle. His desire for skin-on-skin contact was threatening to burn him from the inside out as he felt his tight channel slickening more and more. Due to his inexperience he could only make an educated guess on what the gushing in his arse was preparing him for.

Thranduil scraped at what more of Legolas' leggings he could until most of the prince's thighs were bared. He caught sight of hot, glistening wetness there and immediately delved with his hand. He spread all that he could all over Legolas' cock and stomach, a smile upon his face.

"Well, look at you..." he purred, finding voice to his thoughts escape. "The wine has loosened you more than I expected..." He made a show of licking his hand, sucking every last sweet drop of his son's wetness into his mouth. The taste was one he could soon find himself addicted to, heady and like syrup. There was however a need to not lick but rather shove, and he placed both hands on Legolas' chest to hold him down. Then he was on his knees, bending over to lower himself, dragging his swelling length along Legolas' inner thigh. It poked down between the warm crevice and Thranduil groaned. Such fleshy pleasure had not been his for centuries! He knew he would not last long, not after the entire day had been spent thinking about more or less this exact moment.

He gazed down into his son's eyes, displaying pure pleasure over his usual condescending glare. He could see that Legolas was utterly drunk, while he himself remained mildly tipsy.

 _'A perfect.. advantage..._ '

Legolas gave a surprisingly vocal moan of approval at his father's lewd touch, happy to find a smug smile tugging at the corner of the king's lips when he even dared to taste the prince's bodily fluids in such a naughty fashion.

The alcohol had done a good job of shutting Legolas' brain down effectively, all of the young elf's senses set on experiencing unbridled pleasure now that he was freed from any restriction. His vision was blurred and hazy, but he smiled back at Thranduil when he found himself prone on the couch again, pressed down by his father's weight in wordless command. The moment Thranduil's length thrust between the prince's slippery thighs Legolas gave yet another wanton sound, deep and hoarse, his cheeks flushing brightly in glorious and utter defeat.

Not a single coherent thought dulled his arousal when instinct ordered him to buck his hips, encouraging the king to move in between his legs while Legolas squeezed his thighs tight, then releasing again and repeating.

"Oh please, Ada..." The younger blonde mewled pathetically, transfixed by the flawless, lecherous face above him. "Move, I beg of you!" He breathed, lifting his head and opening his mouth in hope of another searing kiss.

Thranduil dove to kiss his son as requested, though needed no instruction as his lust took control. His hips moved neither frantically or in a desperate jerk, rather riding out the slick wetness between Legolas' thighs like a wave. It was slippery enough for him to practically dance in there but he could feel the day's pressure building in the thick tip of his cock. His own thighs clenched as his muscles worked hard to bring him the peak he desired. He knew Legolas would find pleasure without much effort - how could he not, beneath such a vision of beauty? Legolas' transfixed gaze only served to bring joy to Thranduil's heart, and the King enjoyed the singular focus upon him as he always did.

"Mmmmnnn..." Thranduil opened his mouth to breathe a hot sigh against Legolas' lips. "You beg very sweetly, ion nin. Do you like that, hm? This, h..here?" His breath caught in his throat, coming out in a soft grunt moments later. Thranduil pressed his cock flat against his son's balls and began to move up and down, the most obscenely wet noises rising from the contact. He made sure Legolas was looking at him and rose to sit up straight, casting his robes away. In all his glory he was of creamy white flesh and pure indulgence, the sinful tell of raised nipples signaling his absolute euphoria. He'd waited for what felt like an eternity for this moment. Yet, he was highly aware of it and knew he would remember this for centuries to come. Provided, of course, that Legolas continued to refresh his memory.

The prince whimpered when Thranduil caught his mouth in yet another wickedly decadent kiss, exploring the young elf's mouth and easily dominating his tongue with renewed vigour. Legolas' gaze wandered over the king's lust-driven features in awe. He ran his fingers through Thranduil's silver-blond hair when their kiss deepened, taking nascent pride in being able to stir such an unbridled reaction in the king by the simple fact of relinquishing control. Now that a certain point was exceeded, Legolas realised that submitting to his father's every whim came to him rather naturally, even exciting him beyond measure. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt so delirious with need, yet wanted and safe at the same time. It was a marvellous feeling. Addicting on first try.

 _'Oh this can't be that wrong, can it?'_

Legolas felt like he was dreaming some very naughty dream, the constant stimulant, both visual and physical, driving him absolutely mad with pent-up desire. Never had he thought himself capable of acting so wanton, so depraved as to revel in Thranduil's perfectly executed manipulation of his body. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh and his father's teasing, baritone voice in his ear elicited an ecstatic array of gasps from the young prince.

When the king rose to display his perfect body in all its otherworldly glory, unceasing in his merciless movements, Legolas couldn't help but arch his back as he gave a choked cry. His father's name burned hot on his lips. Eyes rolling up into his head, ripples of pure bliss washed over the prince's body when his shuddering form was flung away by convulsive release, a feeling that was far beyond his wildest hopes and fantasies. His oversensitive balls tightened to an almost painful degree, thick spurts of creamy, milky white come painting his front in copious amounts. The crumpled couch cover underneath him was inevitably ruined thanks to the plentiful self-lubricant that gushed out of his arse. If it hadn't been for the alcohol and intense orgasm, Legolas would have probably faded from the embarrassment of his body's treacherous response.

The sight of Legolas' glorious release was all Thranduil needed to reach his own peak. As Legolas was nearly drowned in his own fluids, Thranduil jerked his hips up and saw a torrent of hot, sweet come flood down the prince's chest. The long moan he let out only served to intensify his pleasure, leaving him panting for breath and sapped of energy. This feeling, this pure rush of all stress and tension out of his body... he could not think of anything better, and he'd seen much indulgence during the past seven thousand years. His eyelids fell shut, long lashes brushing against his prominent cheekbones.

"Aye..." he gasped out, lowering his head without care for what mess his hair fell in. "Ngh..." His chest rose and fell with every breath, as did his stomach which he lowered to rest upon his son's own. His robes remained clean and on the floor while his body was practically swimming in come. His own was fragrant, and similar in texture to fresh, thick vanilla cream. It was however quite sugary and if left lying around would probably attract millions of ants. Thranduil could not just have that. He rolled aside, dipped his head down and began to lick Legolas clean. Over fine muscles and soft skin he laved his tongue, lazily substituting a proper dinner for his beautifully displayed son. After all, Legolas did taste quite delicious. Thranduil only paused now and then to breathe.

Legolas was dizzy, his chest heaving with laboured breaths in the aftermath of the most overwhelming experience he had ever come to know. It put the entirety of his foregone sheepish and timid attempts at finding pleasure by his own hands to shame, rare as they were.

A post-coital glow spread over the prince and his head snapped up in curiosity when he found his Ada lapping at his chest, licking away the bathful of their sweet, shared release. Legolas was too fascinated by Thranduil's behaviour that it didn't even cross his mind to return the favour. Instead he blinked, studying the king who currently looked not so kingly anymore: Hair tousled and sticky with come, body glistening in perspiration and his chiselled facial features tinted with red flushes from excitement.

 _'Beauty in its most primal form.'_ Legolas thought to himself, happy that his usually vain father didn't seem to give a damn about his looks in this moment of shared intimacy.

"Oh Ada, you have no idea how beautiful you are right now." Legolas purred affectionately, raising a hand to gently tuck a loose strand of silken hair that blocked his view behind his Adar's ear.

A low groan almost in deep song spilled from Thranduil's lips. Had he not been so utterly spent, his arousal would have risen at the mere words. He tilted his head into his son's touch, sensitive ears already reddened at their tips.

"Ooohhh... a pity you shall not remember it come morning. Remain by my side and treasure the sight, hm?" He was in no mood to get up and run to a hot bath, though felt no hurry to languish and let his sticky body crystallise. Just resting here was good enough... and as long as he didn't move, he could ignore his messy state. His mind still swam in the shallow waters of post-orgasm bliss, and judging by Legolas' face he was too.

Tomorrow morning he planned to bathe with his son in the mineral hot springs deep within the palace. There, servants would attend to the arduous task of scrubbing come and sweat from royal flesh until both King and Prince sparkled. Thranduil was curious to chase his son's state of mind when he awoke. All he had to do now however was wait.

Legolas nodded in wordless consent, a happy expression ghosting over his face. As far as he was concerned, the prince could have watched his gorgeous father in all his wickedly glistening nakedness forever and a day. However, now that the aftershocks of his mind-blowing orgasm were slowly subsiding, physical fatigue and the remnants of the Dorwinion were eventually taking their toll on the young elf. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and he knew from experience that it wouldn't take long for him to fall asleep, no matter how much he fought it.

"If this is not a dream," Legolas whispered, no longer slurring that much. Snuggling up tightly to the king, he revelled in the warmth and comfort of the close contact. The prince reached for his father's still sticky hand, inhaling the alluring scent, then kissing the knuckles reverently as he had done so many times before.

"Please don't lead me to believe it's just been a sensationally sinful, hazy memory by morning, will you?" Legolas pleaded, closing his eyes to block out the sudden anxiety clutching at his heart. "I couldn't bear to go through all that shame and emotional turmoil again, I..."

Legolas let the rest of the sentence hanging mid-air, his head rolling to the side. His nose and cheek pressed against Thranduil's chest, the prince sound asleep as he was ultimately overcome by tiredness.

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 **A/N:** Oh Legolas Legolas... *shakes head and grins* The wine surely loosened you up!^^ Just give in, will you?!^^

We hope you enjoyed this our smutty little present for you, dear readers?! As usual, comments etc. are very welcome and much appreciated. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everybody! :D ❄❅❆


	3. Misconceptions

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created by JRR Tolkien and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters/situations/events happening are copyrighted by their respective owners. No money is being made from this fic and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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 **Summary For Chapter:** Legolas' corruption continues very effectively, new desires stirred inside the young, impressionable prince when he witnesses Thranduil venting his sadistic streak on an insubordinate servant. Introduction of the footmen OCs Gelias and Maeral.

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Thranduil could only doze a little until morning came, with Legolas' words circling his mind. When he finally opened his eyes he tried rolling aside, thinking himself in bed as usual. But there was something sticking him like glue to his son, and a pleasant warmth all throughout his body.

"Legolas...?" he murmured, blinking sleepily. There lay Legolas beneath him, hair a mess just like his own. Nude.

 _'It was not a dream... He really did accept it.'_ Thranduil thought of how he'd desperately needed Legolas to ease his frustrations and now checked to see they were still there, albeit less intrusive than they had been. _'What has happened to me...? My body... seems wired for his touch.'_ Thranduil pressed a soft kiss to Legolas' neck, breathing in deeply. Ah, there was that familiar scent. Nice and sweet. Then there was the overpowering smell of heated sex, a reminder of last night. The couch was destroyed. No amount of cleaning could save it.

' _We can't stay like this. A hot bath is in order. And perhaps a few hours worth of scrubbing.'_ He bit Legolas just beneath his ear to wake him. "Legolas. Get up."

"Hmmm." Legolas grunted dozily, evenly trying to roll to the side but to no avail. A heavy weight rested pleasantly upon his lean frame, providing the sleepy prince with a comfortable warmth and softness, much like a blanket.

 _'Yet somewhat more alive?'_ The back of his mind slowly seemed to register little by little. Blankets didn't move of their own volition, now did they? Legolas heard a familiar voice somewhere nearby, urging him to do something but the young prince was still too attached to dreamland to comprehend the words properly. It indeed needed his father's playful bite to make Legolas open at least one eye drowsily.

"Ouch! My heeeeead!" He whined instantly, not due to the bite but from experiencing the first real hangover of his immortal life hitting him without mercy. The prince carefully rubbed his temples, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. The odd stickiness that clung to him. His dry throat. That terrible headache. _And_ the fact, that his Ada was lying atop of him in unmistakable pose, hair all tousled and smiling smugly down at him.

"Ummmm..." Legolas drawled, raising a brow as he was trying to decipher yesterday's events in more detail. He could vaguely recall their illicit doings, some memories clearer than others but what he could recall for sure were the _emotions_ that went along with their shared deeds. Emotions, he was more than willing to experience again, no matter what. Guilt be damned, now that the genie was out of the bottle anyway.

"Good morning, Ada?!" The prince said a little helpless, a sheepish flush creeping over his cheeks.

"Good morning. Forgive me for waking you..." Thranduil observed the reddening of Legolas' face, finding it to be a rather sweet look upon him. There he lay, filthy and gorgeous with the memory of last night mostly unknown. Thranduil knew not how much Legolas remembered and now was not the time to ask. They had to move, before they became permanently affixed to the couch. Thranduil peeled himself away and stood, leaning heavily on the backrest of the couch. His hair dripped down past his shoulders and hung along with his bowed head. "Are you in any pain, iôn nín? You drank a lot last night..." The wine bottle remained almost empty, nearby.

Thranduil told himself that without wine, Legolas would probably have driven him away once their little adventure passed a certain point. This morning he would truly find out what his son thought... and just how open he was.

"In no pain I'm familiar with." Legolas whined again, frowning in discomfort when he found his head to be spinning anew while he sat up slowly. "But I'm afraid I fail to understand your immense gusto for this brew if _this_ is the usual outcome." He pointed to his head for emphasis, giving a tortured smile.

It was just then that the prince became fully aware of the sticky mess that covered both him and his father. _And_ the bigger part of the couch. Realising this made Legolas blush to the tip of his pointy ears since, given he could trust the blurry fragments he recalled from last night's events, the irreversible ruination of the couch was mostly _his_ fault. However, what the young elf recalled for sure was the incredible feeling his beautiful Ada had bestowed upon him with...whatever it he had done exactly. All Legolas remembered with utmost certainty was that it had consisted of a lot of very intimate skin-to-skin contact. Yes, this memory he was particularly fond of.

Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he curiously started to lick away the remnants of the dried, glutinous come that plentifully covered his long digits. Thranduil tried to think of a comment regarding his proclivity for wine, but all coherent thought left his mind the moment he saw what his son was doing.

' _Oh by the Valar, this tastes fantastic! More!'_ Legolas thought to himself as if in magical trance, surprised at the sweet flavour and aromatic fragrance that had something distinctly Thranduil to it. Indulgent and divine, Legolas' licking heated up the King's suddenly tense body in more ways than one. Below the waist Thranduil tried to control himself, unwilling for his lust to take control so early in the morning. He'd never tasted himself before, but if natural elven substances were to be compared, it was known they were quite sweet. And… Legolas had always loved sweets.

Before long, the younger blonde got totally carried away, greedily lapping up every tiny bit of the addicting in, dried-up semen from both his hands and fingers in an unseemly lascivious fashion he was at no point aware of. When he had finished, Legolas looked up and seemed to snap out of this wicked spell, embarrassed. "I...I have a feeling...we need some basic cleaning, don't you agree, Ada?" He stuttered, not comprehending what just had happened and desperate for a warm bath to clear his fogged mind and rid himself of the confusingly tempting bodily fluids.

Thranduil looked away for just a moment and heard his son's voice. Ah, finally had Legolas come to his senses! Watching him was far too enticing and Thranduil was glad he had some degree of self control. The hangover would be looked after later, and Thranduil reached for his son's hand.

"Yes. Come, I shall take you."

 _'In more ways than one.'_

He intended to lead Legolas down to the baths, where rock pools full of sparkling water shone like liquid emeralds. They were natural hot springs with steps and ledges carved into the sides, and by the edges were several bottles of scented oils to use on skin and hair. Thranduil hoped his servants would keep their mouths shut about what they saw when both King and Prince entered in such a messy condition. Neither of them needed questions and odd looks this morning.

Blissfully unaware of the renewed arousal Legolas had unintentionally stirred in his father, the young prince dutifully took the king's offered hand, allowing for him to be led to the impressive wells deep within the caves of the royal palace.

Still pre-occupied with the raging headache that hammered between his temples, he let out a relieved groan when the pleasant, warm water washed over him as he sank down into it up to his nose. Apart from the hangover, Legolas felt also somewhat tense, almost every muscles in his young body aching as if he had gone through some sort of thorough physical exertion. His still alcohol-clouded mind suggested it was yesterday's archery training that was now taking its toll on him yet deep inside he had a vague suspicion that this lame excuse couldn't be further from the truth.

Nevertheless, right now he couldn't care less either; the soft waves splashing against him working their soothing magic on his limbs before long. Legolas was so lost in relaxation, eyes closed and head resting against the rounded edge of the pool that he hadn't even started to notice the confused, curious and condemnatory looks the two Elvish footmen had given him and Thranduil when they had helped the regal blondes to peel out of their sticky, copiously stained robes that left little to imagination. Though nudity was nothing to be ashamed of amongst the Elven kin, open display of sexuality or remnants of such were a totally different story.

Had Legolas been sober, he probably would have sensed the servants' revulsion and gone deep red with shame. Realisation had dawned on the two lower elves all too quickly when they found their ill-tempered king in a similar, uncharacteristically dishevelled state. Luckily, the two footmen were wise enough to keep their mouths shut, however, or at least the prince had thought so. Besides, since Legolas was _indeed_ not sober, he was spared the humiliation for the time being. Instead, he politely addressed one of the shocked Elves, lazily cracking an eye open as he felt Thranduil move in the water beside him. "Maeral, I think we need a good scrubbing, please. Would you be so kind to attend to it?"

Maeral took one look at Legolas then Thranduil, who was glaring just a little too much.

"Yes, your Highness." He stripped off his robes and was graceful in his descent, taking the stairs into the deep pool. Once near to Legolas he picked up a soft sponge and dipped it in the water, steam rising from it when he took it out. After soap and lather, he laid it upon Legolas' chest and began to scrub. Thranduil gestured to the other elf, Gelias. He did not need words to express what he wanted. As usual, Thranduil was looked after with extreme care, and while one hand cleaned his body, the other combed through his hair. He relaxed completely and tilted his head aside, gazing at Legolas.

"So tell me, iôn nín. Do you think you will taste wine again after your adventures last night? I must say, your behaviour was _most_ amusing to observe." The lilt of his voice suggested he _still_ remembered Legolas' antics and the thought of them made him smile. Light pink tinted his cheeks as he wiggled his eyebrows at his son. Before their servants, Thranduil knew there could be no embarrassment. Legolas however was not as confident before them (or so Thranduil thought) and likely would feel a tad humiliated if their intimacy last night was brought up. Thranduil did not care much – his servants could have their tongues cut out at any moment, and their slanderous words disproved by careful acting. He eyed Maeral for a moment, considering just how judgemental one elf could get. This one always seemed too thoughtful for his own good - independent, and with pride. Troublesome for a servant, but always respectful around the King. Maeral could not say anything or even _look_ at him strangely if Thranduil made talk of taboo.

Since Maeral obediently held his tongue, Legolas was still naively unaware of the servant's disapproval, relishing the hearty cleaning that was bestowed upon him by the dark-haired footmen. Truth be told, the prince enjoyed being pampered and looked after more than he cared to admit. However, he wasn't as confident as his father with ordering subjects around, authority and domination didn't come to him as naturally as it did to Thranduil and Legolas had a feeling it probably never would. Inwardly shrugging at that realisation, the young blonde turned his head to face the king, blushing lightly at the suggestiveness his father's question held. Seeing the ever stern king wiggle his eyebrows at him made Legolas laugh genuinely though, his awkwardness to discuss private matters in front of subjects, no matter how loyal, forgotten for the time being..

 _'Amusing? No, breathtaking! I can't recall I've ever felt anything like that before.'_

"Well," He drawled, looking for the right words as he kept taking in the sight of his forbiddingly beautiful Ada before him. Only a handbreadth away. _Naked_ in all his ethereal glory. Suddenly dizzy, Legolas felt an alarming first twitch in his loins. "Your wine sure has its merits, I give you that much." Legolas forced himself to reply, trying to sound nonchalant."However, I'd love to forego that awful headache next time."

Speaking of Thranduil's fateful wine triggered blurred memories of last night's events popping up before Legolas' inner eye, flooding both his mind and body with overwhelming excitement and reawakened arousal. Much to his horror, he felt his cock growing hard at rapid speed, right in front of _everybody_ , his shameful boner only thinly disguised by the soft waves of the steaming spring. Legolas eyes widened as did his pupils and before he knew what he was doing, he took a step towards Thranduil, not caring when Maeral gave a shocked squeak as the young prince's erect cock brushed the footmen's upper thigh in the process.

"I think you've missed a spot, Gelias." Legolas mumbled like in trance, eyes fixated on his father's chest. Before he knew what he was doing, the prince leaned forward and gave Thranduil's pectoral an unmistakably sexually charged lick, his pink little tongue lapping away the dried come that Gelias indeed had missed to clean off the king.

Thranduil twitched minutely at the contact of hot tongue against sensitive flesh, and he looked down at his beautiful, sneaky son.

' _He really does love that taste, doesn't he? Hmm... perhaps next time I shall have him clean me with his tongue?_ '

He drew a hand up through the water and combed it through Legolas' hair, his movements slow and serene. As he spoke, his voice became a low, almost slurred collection of breathy words. "The trick with wine is to drink a little more when your head starts to hurt." As he pet his son's hair, he scooped a little warm water into his hand and let it trickle over the top of Legolas' head. "Mm... Last night truly was something to remember. I might have to drink with you more often..."

Used to drunkenness and capable of retaining some memory, Thranduil gazed at his son with a misty and lustful gaze. From the temperature of Legolas' body and the feel of his pulse, Thranduil could tell he was aroused. His hand slid down the side of Legolas' neck and remained there, long fingers drifting up and down. His thumb remained hidden in a mass of wet hair and discreetly massaged a point behind Legolas' ear. He knew exactly what he was doing once again and cared not for consequence. He was the King. In his realm, he could suffer nothing of the sort.

While he paid close attention to his son, his left hand remained free beneath the water. He reached for Gelias with it and stroked his servant's inner thigh, peering from the corner of his eyes to see a quick reaction. Gelias bit his lip and looked down in immediate submission, used to the King's fooling around but still young enough to be shocked by it. Maeral was right there and his immediate superior when it came to their duties, looking far too uncomfortable to remain silent. Maeral had to clench his tight ass to avoid exploding as he witnessed what was going on. He hesitated to touch Legolas when Thranduil was so near but had a little more scrubbing to do... at Legolas' lower back. Gelias meanwhile was being fondled beneath the water and Thranduil enjoyed the smooth feel of his servant's pale, soft skin. Gelias couldn't even breathe an expression of his shameful arousal, courtesy of Thranduil's skilful fingers. He was to remain silent and pretty, like a rubber duck in a bathtub. Something like that.

Legolas didn't even realise what he was doing before it was too late. Happily lapping away at his Ada's chest had come to him so naturally, unbeknownst to him aided by magic yet born out of a strange, deep-rooted and dark desire that made him repeatedly forget about etiquette. Purring softly, Legolas blatantly revelled in the king's manipulative touch. It was just the moment as the prince felt warm water trickle over his scalp, hearing his father's voice in the distance that briefly made him snap out of his transfixed state. Blushing furiously, he flinched, staring back into the frowning face of Mearal, who was quite obviously _very_ close to losing his temper at the indecorous actions that unfolded right before his very eye.

 _'Oh holy hell, what am I even doing? This has to be some after-effect of the wine?!'_

Legolas secretly hoped, seriously considering to simply submerge in the steaming pool in order to hide from the accusing glances Mearal shot him as he reluctantly resumed his work of cleaning the prince. However, the young blonde quickly dismissed the ridiculous idea when he caught sight of Gelias' tortured expression. _And_ the reason for it. Tilting his head curiously, an odd mix of jealousy and electrifying excitement washed over Legolas, painfully adding to is his already throbbing arousal as he watched his wicked father fondle a very tense and adorably compliant Gelias.

Thranduil continued to shamelessly grope his fine young servant, curious about how Maeral was dealing with it. Apparently he wasn't taking it too well, as his expression and movements were both stiff and almost forced. Thranduil knew he wanted to either explode or escape. So naturally, he decided to make it a little more torturous for him. As Gelias went to shampoo his hair, Thranduil turned his head and kissed him right on the lips.

"Mmph!" Gelias flushed redder and nearly drowned himself there and then. He hurriedly poured his handfuls of shampoo (rose and jasmine scented, all natural) onto Thranduil's head and pulled away. Thranduil only smirked and turned his back to him, leaving his hair in the trembling servant's hands. Now he faced Legolas, and one very uncomfortable Maeral.

"My, my. Someone's tense. Whatever is the matter with you?" asked Thranduil, reaching over Legolas' chest to trail a wet finger along Maeral's cheek. He rested his chin on Legolas' shoulder, peeping with his icy blue eyes. His other hand went around Legolas' waist, dipping down to caress his buttocks underwater. Thranduil did so love to touch especially when relaxed in the warmth of these steamy pools. The water made skin so soft, so pliant and in certain places, bouncy. All it needed was a few extra substances and the water would rejuvenate any elf to glowing heights. Said substance was something on the verge of release and Gelias had to struggle to keep himself under control as he lathered up Thranduil's gorgeous blonde hair. He hoped Maeral couldn't read what was going through his mind right now.

Mearal's eyes narrowed in anger, intently watching Thanduil's deliberate provocation. The old servant wasn't fuming about the King's rather unkingly behaviour though, oh no, that was old news to him. Contrary to the icy and collected demeanour Thranduil loved to let on when around other races, probably laughing inwardly at their foolishness, his blatant licentiousness was not only well-known, but both feared and desired amongst his own folks. Everybody intending to enter into the Elvenking's service had heard the rumours of said service being...all-encompassing. And thus twisted and painful at times as well, the King's deviancy legendary. Even so, Thranduil was never short of new applicants, his allure and ethereal beauty almost impossible to resist for most beings, Maeral having been no exception in his younger days. Hence, he couldn't really blame Gelias for falling for the king's manipulative tricks, easily being coaxed into spreading his thighs oh so willingly should the occasion arise. The poor boy was most likely fantasising about being taken already.

But neither Gelias' nor any other footman's readiness to have their bones jumped by their debauched King in no time was what truly bugged Maeral since they knew what they were in for when applying. No, it was the young prince's corruption that left a nasty taste in his mouth. From Maeral's point of view, Legolas was a sensitive, virtuous and hopelessly overprotected soul, worthy of so much more than being randomly subjected to the depraved whim of his _own father_. The aged elf feared that Legolas, although obviously quite thrilled and content with the illicit situation for the time being, would be left heart-broken if he turned out to be just another depraved diversion for Thranduil. To his credit, Maeral did not know of the true reason regarding the highly questionable actions of the Royal Highnesses and so he did what he his sense of duty commanded him to do, consequences be damned.

"With all due respect, your Majesty," The older servant growled lowly. "Do you consider it appropriate to engage in such..." His eyes darted briefly to where the King's hand idly kneaded Legolas' firm buttocks. "...activities with your _own flesh and blood_?"

Thranduil's caressing hand slipped a single finger between Legolas' cheeks and stroked all the way up to his spine. Slowly he blinked, taking his sweet time in plucking the most delicate answer to Maeral's question out of the air.

"Mm… but of course! I love my precious little leaf and he enjoys it plenty. Don't you, Legolas?" He purred into his son's ear, continuing to grope and sweep his slender fingers further to the underside of Legolas' body. As Gelias finished soaping up his hair, Thranduil slithered closer to Maeral. So close in fact that he could feel the heat from his servant's body and see every muscle tensed. Being somewhat taller than him, Thranduil was able to peer into those judgemental eyes with his own lidded in haughty amusement. "Are you _jealous_?"

He didn't mind having to face off in the baths while completely nude and erect, finding his own abilities and position more than enough to win. Maeral he hoped had the sense not to argue, especially in front of the young and impressionable prince. Gelias tried to make himself small beside Legolas as he had the feeling that shit was going to go down. Thranduil displayed no aggression or ill intent, however. Just superiority, cold and pure.

Legolas blushed in a bright pink, yet nodded his approval as he whispered enthusiastically. "Yes, I do. Don't worry about my well-being, Maeral. Ada is taking good care of me."

Maeral cringed a little at the prince's inadvertent choice of words, but the happy expression and the sweet, shy smile that graced Legolas' youthful features put the valet a little more conciliatory with the whole situation. After all, he had given all parties a thought-provoking impulse or two, hadn't he? And silenced his consciousness, too. Anything beyond that was indeed none of his business, illicit or not.

Nevertheless, Maeral had to suppress the snort that threatened to escape his lips at the King's conceited question. Jealous? Did Thranduil really believe that the footman's had had the nerve to interfere due to the 'irresistible attraction' the Elvenking prided himself on? By the Valar, evidently his arrogance knew no boundaries!

"No, Sire." The old elf replied, outwardly calm (yet admittedly a little nervous at the close proximity of a very impressive erection pointing at him like a compass needle) and not fooled by Thranduil's attempt of physical intimidation as the King planted himself in front of his impertinent servant. "My only desire is to see the prince happy." He reluctantly bowed his head before adding. " _Permanently_ , that is."

Thranduil discerned a mild protective instinct from Maeral's words and raised an eyebrow, suspicious. He did not let anything slip in the tone of his voice as he instructed his servant.

"Then perhaps you can please him yourself. Attend my son, will you?" Moving away in a graceful sweep he pulled himself out of the pool and sat on the edge. His hair stuck to his soft, wet body and his arousal was made _very_ clear. Thranduil stood then, posture relaxed and gestures loose. "Gelias, fetch the others." With a sneaky glance to Legolas and Maeral, Thranduil wandered over to the right where the smooth rock floor transitioned into thick, fluffy carpet. Like most places he frequented, it was soft and comfortable for all who entered. Chairs covered in similarly fluffy fabric sat before enormous mirrors and ornate stands full of hair products. All natural and fragrant, the bottles had pictures of different flowers on them.

Gelias was having a little difficulty concentrating on his tasks but ran to get some more servants at once, trying not to waddle due to the ache between his legs. As Thranduil sank into a tall chair that left only his head unsupported, he closed his eyes. Gelias brought five elves with him, three for Thranduil and two for Legolas. Such long, glorious hair required intricate care and the Silvan were very experienced in that.

At first, Maeral was outright dumbfounded by the King's latest order but then he secretly smiled to himself and nodded obediently. "As you wish, Milord."

Apparently, Thranduil had received the servant's well-meant broad hint and was now trying to play the situation down, letting the other elf off the hook. Or so Maeral thought. Little did he know that he was soon to find out just _how very wrong_ he was in that matter. The old fool was far from being forgiven for his impertinence yet didn't entertain the slightest suspicion when he silently left the pool, following the little group to the grooming area and gracefully sinking to his knees in front of a adorably flustered crown prince.

Meanwhile, Legolas had slumped into the chair next to his father, undecided whether he was supposed to be shocked or excited about the fact that Thranduil had just ordered a random servant to carnally pleasure the young prince. Watching his father making a fabulous show of getting out of the springs had stirred the prince's arousal anew, yet with more and more Elves and hence evenly more prying eyes in the room, Legolas suddenly felt somewhat intimidated, his gaze darting nervously to the green eyes of Maeral.

"You...you don't need to do this, you know." Legolas croaked, his fingers firmly clutching the armrest of the plush hairdressing chair. "I'm sure Ada was only jesting when..."

Maeral simply gave the fidgeting prince a reassuring, warm smile as he moved to carefully part the prince's knees. "My Highness, I daresay your father is quite insistent in his wish for me to tend to you." The older elf tilted his head, eying the prince's twitching erection curiously. "And besides, be assured that I deem it a great honour servicing you this way." For emphasis, he leaned closer towards Legolas, resting his hands on both the prince's lithe thighs and tenderly licked away the glistening drop of precum that leaked from the slit of Legolas' fluted, pink cock. "Just sit back and relax, my dear prince."

Legolas had stared wide-eyed, breath hitching when he felt Maeral's tongue, anyone's tongue on his length for the first time. Another pair of hands reached around his shoulders from behind him and softly pulling the prince back against the back of the chair, the other footmen starting to work their magic on the prince's hair, luckily minding their business. Legolas couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut and giving tiny whimpers at the intensity of the moment.

Thranduil smirked upon sight of Maeral's obedience and parted his legs for Gelias to settle between. Still painfully hard, Gelias began to suck at Thranduil eagerly until his head was held in place. Thranduil only wished for a little warmth, and was saving his release for later. Gelias could relax now and rest his face in the softness of Thranduil's thighs, caressing them gently. He gazed up at Thranduil, admiring him from below.

Thranduil closed his eyes and felt the first of the other servants pick up his hair and begin to dry long sections with a soft towel. The others combed out his long, shining locks while he tilted his head back and let them work. It was always like this in the morning – he would bathe and have attention lavished upon him by his loyal servants. Then, an extravagant breakfast on the sunlit western balcony near his room in the palace. Afterwards he had the day to sit on his throne and think, or do whatever else a King was supposed to. Nowadays he much felt like keeping his son in check, since the years were dragging on and Mirkwood was becoming ever more dangerous. Beside him Legolas whimpered as he was pleasured and Thranduil thought to himself, _'Who would ever want to leave such a perfect place?'_

Here there was good food and wine, status for Thranduil's little family and an entire race of elves willing to bow at their feet. The King could not honestly ask for much more when everything he'd ever wanted was readily available. Aside from certain people coming back to life, this was as good as it was going to get. He ran his fingers through Gelias' hair, sighing.

"Mmmhnn…"

Neither of the present Elves was truly surprised when the young, inexperienced prince reached his peak all too soon at the skilled hands (and mouth) of the dark-haired head servant. Sighing contentedly, Legolas whispered his thank you to Maeral before a cursory glance to the side instantly piqued his curiosity. Between the king's strong thighs kneeled Gelias, beaming up at Thranduil with bright blue eyes whilst the footman's mouth was thoroughly stuffed, glistening lips stretching wide around regal cock. Much to Legolas confusion however, the youthful lad did not show the slightest inclination of putting his tongue to good use though as Maeral had done on Legolas only moments ago. No, Gelias just knelt there, unmoving and servile while the king himself had his eyes closed in obvious relaxation. Tilting his head, Legolas blinked a few times, clueless. From what he had learned so far, carnal pleasure usually involved some sort of motion and the scene before him was definitely lacking such.

"Ada?" The prince asked curiously. "What exactly is Gelias doing that makes you feel so at ease?" Legolas furrowed a brow, his lack of knowledge starting to bug him. "He isn't even moving?!"

Thranduil turned to his son and a lazy smile grew across his face. "Mm… oh, it feels _very good_ , iôn nín." He ran his fingers through Gelias' soft hair, which remained in its ponytail despite being a little wet. "He is keeping me quite warm here. Tis comfort at its finest, would you like to try?" Thranduil pushed Gelias' head back a little and revealed a section of his glistening length. Then he eyed Maeral, who was wiping his mouth clean discreetly. His tone changed at once.

"You, come here." He commanded Maeral to replace Gelias, allowing the younger servant to crawl the short distance across the carpet to Legolas. Maeral knew he was up for something nasty (as Thranduil rarely required him for much else) and began rethinking his earlier stance on punishment. The King could be a lot more cunning than he let show on his face, and those eyebrows were full of LIES.

Gelias knelt before Legolas and beamed up at him, hungry for a taste of that which he had not stuffed in his mouth before. He'd always wanted to be a connoisseur of the finest foods available. Now was his chance.

"Please allow me to serve you, your Highness." he mewled, parting his soft, full pink lips. A little of Thranduil's scent wafted by.

"Yes, please!" Legolas nodded his eager approval, smiling sweetly down at Gelias' pretty, youthful features. A pleasant shudder ran down his spine when he felt his cock engulfed in comfortable warmth and wetness, granting the prince a degree of relaxation he had never known in young life.

Meanwhile in the other chair, Thranduil's arousal swelled to further hardness at the thoughts of what he was going to do. Like most elves he could maintain a healthy erection for several hours and didn't mind keeping himself stiff for a purpose. Said purpose was to show Maeral what he _really_ approved of aside from incest and not-so-sneaky touches in a semi-public place.

"So you think intervening between us is a good idea, eh?" Thranduil hissed without voice and with Maeral reading his lips, his words were understood. "I'll teach you a better use for your filthy mouth." As an ivory comb went through his sleek, somewhat damp hair he leaned forth and grabbed a fistful of Maeral's braided hair. " _Open."_

Thranduil's sudden harsh tone snapped Legolas out of his blissful state of contentment, eliciting that odd mixture of curiosity and fear in his son that never failed to cause the little hairs on the prince's neck stand on end. Raising a suspicious brow, Legolas eyes were now glued to the scene unfolding next to him.

Maeral had reluctantly done as he was told, lowering himself to his knees before Thranduil with all the dignity he could muster. He had a vague suspicion on what his resentful King had in stock for him, embarrassment burning brightly on the ancient servant's flushed cheeks. Flustered, Maeral shot Legolas a quick glance through hooded eyes before he quickly averted them again, hoping that his discomfort and shame went unnoticed by the curious lad. Being subjected to humiliation was Maeral's least favourite form of punishment and unfortunately the cunning King of Mirkwood was _very_ much aware of that fact.

Hence, inwardly blocking out any conscious feelings best he could, the dark-haired elf brought his attention back to Thranduil who leered down at him so smugly it itched Maeral to punch that haughty expression out of Thranduil's royal visage. Nevertheless, Maeral refrained from acting on that audacious fantasy, wisely deciding on resigning to his fate instead.

Unceremoniously he tilted his head back a little, parting his lips in defeat and silently waited for his debasement to begin.

The resulting grin on Thranduil's face bared pointy teeth through pale lips, before he reached with clawed fingers for a better grip on Maeral's hair. At the back of Maeral's head, a thick plait began made of three long braids coming from the top and sides of his head. Quite a bit of hair was knotted into a ball around it and Thranduil used it to roughly jerk Maeral towards his own body, flicking his wrist to manipulate his servant's jaw open. Before Maeral's teeth could clack together and register pain, he found a thick, long cock stuffed down his throat so far he could barely breathe. Actually, he could _not_ breathe at all once Thranduil kept him in a certain position and alarm tingled all over his body.

The King lay back easily in his chair, deft fingers caught in russet brown hair. Maeral wasn't going anywhere, and he certainly wasn't going to die. After feeling the struggle and panic around his cock, Thranduil pushed Maeral back just enough to let him breathe.  
"Your throat forms a better sleeve of pleasure than speaking device, Maeral. Consider filling your filthy mouth with _this_ before you make talk where it is not due."

Maeral could not lay hands nor pleading gaze upon the King, kneeling before him with his neck forced at a painful angle. Hell, _every_ angle hurt after so many centuries of this. His gasping breaths made Thranduil laugh as he was rhythmically stuffed and left empty of cock. All his focus went into breathing and trying to remain calm, face flushed with shame. One of the servants standing to comb Thranduil's hair ran a finger down the side of the King's ear and giggled.

"Ohh, look at how scared he is… he's shaking. Sire, you might want to adjust your feet. He looks like he's going to piss himself."

Thranduil looked down with an eyebrow raised to see Maeral tightly squeezing his legs together, nude just like everyone else and trembling as if cold. He'd tucked his penis under himself somehow and seemed intent to sit on it for some semblance of bodily control. Thranduil scoffed and pulled Maeral back, letting him rasp for breath and then yelp in an uncontrollable burst as a foot nudged his legs apart.

"Pah. He is outspoken and weak, and a terrible _whore_. Look how he tries to hold himself, and how easily he gives in." He turned to Legolas then, who had an oddly curious look about him. "Ai, Legolas. Discipline must be handed quickly to those who are slow to learn. Maeral here would have you for himself, I believe. I have seen how he watches you." Perhaps a little maddened and simply seeing what he wanted to see, Thranduil conjured memories of things that had no reason to exist. His mind easily justified every reason why he might punish Maeral, both real and fictitious. Maeral meanwhile was screaming " ** _BULLSHIT"_** in his mind and begging the Valar for this torment to end. His throat was woefully sore and his tongue felt about to dissolve with the heated friction of Thranduil's constant rubbing. The King did not even make an effort to thrust, instead forcing Maeral's whole body to move from the highest point of his spine. A few cracks could be heard here and there.

Gelias seemed completely out of it, paying no attention to anything other than gazing up at Legolas with a dreamy expression on his face. Now and then he swallowed, only on impulse as his mouth remained wet and sticky. Legolas could rest there for however long he liked – Gelias could even fall asleep like this!

The servants behind Thranduil were starting to snicker a little, most pitying Maeral and the others finding the whole thing amusing. Those behind Legolas tried not to look. Those who were nude could not hide unexpected arousal if it decided to come around.

Since he had expected a harsh thrust, Maeral was caught somewhat off-guard when he was abruptly jerked forward instead. Instinctively, he tried to scramble back but Thranduil's iron grip held him securely in place, allowing the King to shove his girthy length balls deep into Maeral's tight and unprepared throat. Giving a panicked grunt when he felt his air supply momentarily being cut off, tears welled up as the lower elf's eyes went wide with in shock. It took all his willpower not to struggle or even try to fight and free himself as Maeral found his nose pressed awkwardly against Thranduil's forbiddingly soft abdomen, restricting Maeral's intake of air even further. Willing his gagging reflex down best he could long seconds of pain and horror ticked by, the painful throb in his abused throat intensifying before the pressure on the back of his head declined all of a sudden. Still in deadly terror Maeral took a long, audible breath when the King allowed him to do so but before long he found himself being choked over and over again.

Thranduil's cruel words and laughter only added to the poor servant's disgrace and for a split second Maeral wondered if it was possibly to die from shame. Since his eyesight was still blurred with unshed tears he didn't recognise which of the other elves had made the snide remark that inspired the King to rob Maeral of the last bit of control he claimed to have over his body by kicking his legs apart. The moment the dark-haired elf's shrunken length hung free between his shivering thighs, he had indeed had to fight the urge to piss but gladly succeeded. He'd rather die than piss himself while being humiliatingly face-fucked by one obviously lunatic Elven King. Oh no, this was not the way he would like to be remembered!

The King's merciless treatment and mad accusations continued for quite some time and Maeral endured it with all the dignity he could muster, suffering silently.

Legolas had watched in awe, although with mixed feelings. One the one hand he felt incredibly sorry for poor Maeral but on the other hand he couldn't deny the heat and enormous arousal that his father's very actions had stirred in the young prince. Legolas was strangely fascinated by the Thranduil's mean, vile demeanour and so the prince caught himself fantasising to be in Maeral's place, on the receiving end of Thranduil's deliciously obscene and untamed perverse sadism.

Legolas found himself grow hard again in Gelias' comfortable mouth as he watched on, transfixed.

Interim, Maeral had high hopes for his ordeal to end when the tell-tale, erratic throb of Thranduil's deeply buried cock announced the King's pending climax. Accompanied by a deep, guttural moan that reverberated from stone-carved walls Thranduil shot a veritable jet of sticky come down the depths of Maeral's sore, burning throat, load after load of the sweet substance distending the servants belly until it bulged visibly.

At that sight Legolas spent himself with a strangled cry into the welcoming hot warmth of Gelias' mouth, who seemed utterly happy with the outcome, now sucking eagerly to catch every last drop of the prince's royal seed. Not wanting to waste a drop and in order to cap it all off, thereby finally completing Maeral's punishment, the King unleashed his last load straight onto his disobedient servant's face, decorating it with a rich cream pie that covered at least two thirds of the silently whimpering elf's face and quite a few strands of his hair.

"Will that be all, Sire?" Maeral asked stoically though trembling inside with indignation.

Thranduil would be full and ready for another session of raw pleasure in mere hours, and pushed Maeral away. He saw the servant reaching for one of many cloths piled up on the floor and stopped him with a sharp command.

"Go and resume your duties, and leave that on your face. Valar knows you could use the moisture, what with your dry comments and all." The King waved his hand dismissively as he rose from his comfortable seat. His hair was only damp now and did not stick to his back, instead swaying with every movement. He patted one of his more well-behaved servants on the head and spread his arms to be clothed by the others. Once in his robes and breeches, he turned to Legolas.

"Care to join me for breakfast?"

༻✨❀✨༺

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 **A/N:** Ayy if anyone's interested on the backstory for Maeral and Gelias, there'll be a little side-fic appearing sometime soon for that. :D Rest assured that the main story here will continue to focus on Thranduil and Legolas!


	4. Regal Nourishment

Sexually sated for the time being, the magic allowed both father and son to perform their daily duties for a while without being constantly on edge and craving for one another. While Thranduil morosely went to a boring court meeting, Legolas opted for the kitchen instead as he did often these days. Stuffing himself full with sweet honey and rosehip puree pastries amongst other treats, briefly wondering how came his sudden appetite he soon dismissed the thought when a strong, irresistible heat started to build in his groin, an insatiable hunger that no pastry could assuage. The wicked magic had come back with all its force, guiding Legolas back to Thranduil's private chambers without further delay.

Just when the Prince had raised his hand to rap at the heavy, intricate door, he was startled by odd noises coming from inside the room. Muffled whimpers and pained wails mixed with amused chuckles, causing Legolas to tear the door open without bothering to knock. Worrying for his beloved Ada's well-being, he recklessly rushed into the royal bedroom.

"Ada, are you al...?" Legolas stopped dead in his tracks, left speechless at the scenario unfolding before him.

There in the King's bedroom kneeling on the sheets was Maeral, evidently being tortured by Thranduil who'd decided he hadn't gone through enough pain already. Blindfolded and gagged, Maeral was tied with thick, rough rope as if he posed a threat to the King. Both hands behind his back, his legs were spread and Thranduil drew the tip of a knife around his thighs, murmuring dark words into his ear. Bite marks littered his reddened flesh, and the glossy sheen of what could be any number of fluids slicked his skin. Inside he was being maimed by a thick, spiked plug that Thranduil twisted around, snickering at his servant's anguish.

"I will make you regret speaking out against my son and I." Thranduil growled, licking up Maeral's neck to sink his teeth in, hard enough to draw blood. "Mmmm... and perhaps if you are good, I will not let the others see."

Somewhat entranced for the moment, Thranduil did not notice Legolas until it was too late. His son's words broke him out of his cruel, joyous taunting and he looked up with a lusty, sadistic gaze.

"Legolas..." he murmured, making no attempt to hide the various open cabinets and boxes containing all manner of pleasure and pain instruments. A thick leather flogger lay just beside his leg and he cared little for how wrong it all seemed. "Mm.. have you come for punishment, too?"

"...right?!" Legolas almost choked on the he last syllable of his well-meant expression of concern, hardly audible though. The sensory overload and sudden pull of mischievous magic made the young Prince run the whole gamut of emotions - from initial shock at the sight of a clearly anguished Maeral, the blade slightly unnerving the young elf in this context, to both heart-felt pity and maddening envy alike for the poor servant in distress.

Trying to blink away his bafflement, Legolas tried hard to tear his eyes away from the somewhat disturbing yet strangely alluring sight before him. His Ada was so absorbed in his kinky doings and shamelessly revelling in the domineering power he held over his disobedient footman that the King was even oblivious to his own son's presence!

 _'Good heavens, he's so damn...tempting!_ '

Blushing yet still glued to the spot, the Prince soon spotted something that piqued his curiosity. On the far wall, opposite to the spacious four-poster bed and no longer hidden from sight, sat rows and rows of all kinds of devious devices, sadistic and enticing implements that the younger elf hadn't even dared dream of.

 _'I want to explore those!_ ' Legolas thought to himself with a pounding heart and a delicious throb to his cock. He took a few tentative steps towards the nearest by shelf, reaching his hand out for a decidedly evil phallus replica, enormous in size and...with three bulbous, tapered heads along the shaft that lift little to imagination.

But just when Legolas was about to grab the toy, he was startled by Maeral's tortured whimper and spun around as if busted. Obviously, Thranduil was now very much aware of Legolas being in the room, gazing at him heatedly and blatantly lust-ridden. Legolas' knees went weak at his father's suggestive question and before he even knew what he was doing he found himself nodding his head.

"Whatever you see fit, Ada." He murmured, blushing furiously at the realisation of his voice betraying his excitement.

"Leave us." Thranduil growled to Maeral, untying him only enough for him to have movement in his legs. The servant left quicker than anyone in his situation possibly could've, leaving Thranduil on the bed surrounded by suspicious objects. Then, he turned the full power of his lusty, ethereal gaze upon his son. He tossed his head to the side, hair falling over one shoulder before beckoning for Legolas to come near.

"I daresay a nosey little elfling like you is deserving of some punishment, sneaking in as you did. Mmm, iôn nín. Just what shall I do to you?" He picked up the knife, appeared to consider it then cast it aside so it fell into an open drawer nearby. Then, in one hand he held his leather flogger and ran it between his soft, creamy thighs.

"Perhaps a good spanking will teach you not to intrude on your Ada's privacy, Legolas." His voice hung heavier than his balls, deep and sweet with the promise of delicious torture. Already dripping and hard, he let the tails of the flogger caress his pointed length. He moaned openly, face a little flushed as he spread out to lay on his side, openly pleasuring himself before his son.

"Maybe…" he gasped, managing to keep his voice even "You will even earn my mercy, if you are good."

Gasping, the utterly shameless display of Thranduil's unrestrained lasciviousness made Legolas' knees go weak and he found himself sinking down onto the plush carpet at the foot of the bed on instinct before he even knew what he was doing. Eying the flogger nervously, the Prince melted into an embarrassed puddle, grateful for his shiny, flaxen hair to hide the furious blush that graced his cheeks as he bowed his head in disturbingly arousing submission.

"Pardon my intrusion, Adar." Legolas whispered breathlessly, the silky timbre of his father's voice ringing thick with the dark promise of torturous pleasure in his ears. "It was not my place to intrude your privacy. I will be good, I promise." Tentatively, he crawled a little closer, still on his knees. "I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness." Biting his lower lip in confused desire, Legolas briefly glanced up before averting his gaze again, his nose almost touching the floor now. "You can punish me, if you deem it necessary..."

 _'Please. Oh please, punish me. By the Valar, this is killing me_.' Legolas thought, both thrilled and disturbed by the excessiveness of his deference.

Still smirking, Thranduil changed his position into a predatory crawl towards the edge of the bed. His hair fell over his shoulders to shadow his face, and in his eyes a hunger blazed bright blue unlike anything he'd let his son see before. Between his legs swayed just what Legolas wanted, he was sure. And now, the Prince was all his to play with, eager for forgiveness...

"I will show you what happens to those who enter my room without warrant." he growled, tucking his legs beneath himself so he knelt at the edge of the bed. "Come here." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, each movement so fluid it seemed only natural that Legolas should come to lay across his lap.

Thranduil's bejewelled fingers flexed, the muscles in his arms moving beneath wondrously smooth skin in preparation for a good spanking. He imagined the feel of his son's delicate, soft ass cheeks, the warmth of his taint, the sweetness of his cries... and his hardness looked like it was close to burst. It felt much the same, throbbing between his slightly parted legs. The sight of Legolas bowing to him did things to his arousal that nothing else had ever managed. For his own son to be so respectful and submissive, yet lewd all the same... Thranduil breathed out a single, cool sigh. Already his cheeks were flushed with excitement. But he did not want to seem too eager - he was punishing his son. And having fun with it, too.

He lowered his dark eyelashes, beckoning with a finger.

Legolas had watched his father's seductive movement from the corner of his eyes, peeking through the silky veil of hair that covered his flushed face as he knelt. Now this protection was no longer, the Prince submissively crawling on his hands and knees towards the King, instinctively drawn to follow Thranduil's beckoning like a moth attracted to the light. Eyes half-lidded, it took all of Legolas' willpower not to blatantly stare at his Ada's thick arousal. Sudden images of himself showering the King's impressive hardness with appreciative little kisses, worshipping that regal cock in any way possible popped up before Legolas inner eye at maddening intensity.

The younger elf's own length strained almost painfully against the confinements of his constricting leggins when he lifted himself from the plush carpet, so it was only natural for his shaky fingers to find the waistband of the offending garment and wriggling out of it, the shimmering fabric pooling at his ankles. Stepping out of it, Legolas came to lay across Thranduil's smooth lap as he was bidden, hissing excitedly when he felt the tip of his father's bulbous cockhead poke into his soft, rounded underbelly. For a moment, the Prince simply lay there and revelled in the thrillingly, humiliating feeling of being so exposed and vulnerable, shuddering when he found his father's pre-come leaking against the ivory skin of his tummy. A guttural groan escaped his lips and the Prince wiggled his buttocks in blissful anticipation of harsh punishment at the King's hand.

Then Thranduil moved, and it was a swift smack that landed upon Legolas' pale buttocks. One, then another, then a few more! Thranduil splayed one hand out over Legolas' back while the other delivered a sharp spanking. He varied the timing a little and sometimes even lingered to stroke his finger through the crack between.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, cupping one of Legolas' ass cheeks to squeeze and grope at it. Mmm, so smooth and hot! Now it was becoming red from the harsh treatment and Thranduil massaged a little. His arousal stuck up straight into Legolas' stomach and he had to ignore it - playing with his son like this felt much better. But after a time, his need grew pressing and he felt like taking a bite out of the juiciest, most flavoursome parts of Legolas' ass. It teased him, wiggling around like that...

"Aye Ada, I do like this!" Legolas confessed bluntly when his rear end began to colour in different shades of the loveliest pink with every swat. Light, red splotches started to form on his tender skin, leaving the lust-drunken Prince flinching and gasping at each well-placed smack. The sharp edges of the King's jewel-adorned, heavy rings only added to the sting as he delivered the Prince's punishment in quick succession, the gems leaving unintentional but nonetheless painful scratches every now and then all over Legolas' no longer pale buttocks.

"Ngghh." Legolas sobbed hoarsely as his fingers dug into Thranduil's calf for balance, his eyes watering at the sheer overwhelming feeling of self-indulgence, outright pain and corrupted shame. The King's teasing yet somewhat cruel groping even heightened the experience for the younger elf, making Legolas all the more aware of his Ada's demanding need pressing against belly and fuelling the Prince's burning need for an even more intimate form of touch. Almost delirious, the Prince whimpered. "More, Ada, please! I need more of you!"

"What right have you to beg me thus?" Thranduil growled and stood, dumping Legolas off his lap. Painfully erect and in an aggressive state of arousal, he grabbed his leather flogger off the bed and brandished it before his son.

"You obey me here, iôn nín. Bend." He observed Legolas' fine ass now with marks all over from his thorough spanking. Welts would result from the flogging he had planned, but Thranduil knew how to make it painful and safe so that Legolas could be smooth and unharmed come morning. Oh, yes, the King planned to take very good care of his son. But naughty little Princelings needed punishment, especially those who seemed to crave it. Thranduil stroked himself a few times, hissing out a curse as he found it near impossible to keep himself under control.

 _'I could just take that reddened ass of his right here_ …'

Legolas winced when his abused rear end made abrupt contact with the rug in front of Thranduil's bed. For long seconds he sat in baffled silence, blinking profusely in confusion and bewilderment at the unexpected turn of events. Long seconds ticked away before the Prince was cut out of his haze when the flogger swished through the air with a terrifying snap, startling the younger elf.

'Oh no, have I committed some sort of offence? Why must I crave his cruel touch so much? And isn't he feeling the same? Have I insulted him? I don't understand.' Legolas inwardly whined to himself, his erection flagging visibly when a myriad of self-doubts started to wash away his enthusiasm for corporal punishment.

"Pardon my insolence, Ada, I-I didn't mean it?!" Legolas finally stuttered, still not quite comprehending how he could have possibly wronged Thranduil to deserve such sudden harsh rejection. The Prince was obviously beginning to sober, all colour falling from his angular face. A wave of guilt brought unbidden tears of shame to his eyes, trickling down his angelic features like little white gems.

Suppressing a heartfelt sob, Legolas crouched into place. Jittery positioning himself on his knees and bending over at the waist, his face resting sideways on the rug, he folded his arms and hands on his back. The Prince's red ass was now raised up high in the air, a vulnerable and easily accessible testimony of subservience as the wicked magic was guiding him again. His current angle allowed the younger elf to watch the King as he stood, leaving him momentarily perplexed at the sight of Thranduil lasciviously caressing his aching length despite the contradictory scolding he had administered only a moment ago.

'Why am I not supposed to enjoy this?' Legolas mused, too young and too naïve to understand that the King was playing this enticing game of dominance and submission for his twisted enjoyment.

Thranduil adored the sight of his son so willingly submissive and though he did not wish to make Legolas cry, the fact that it happened meant he was truly absorbed in this. What an experience of punishment, to be followed with something much better!

"Ten lashes for you." Thranduil smirked and raised the flogger, bringing it down and past Legolas' ass, the tails connecting with his flesh. "I know you like it."

His voice had pitched down and words slurred together in a sultry purr, cock twitching with a glistening substance at the tip. Pointing right at Legolas, it looked ready to drill into his reddened rear. Thranduil however did not think his son would be ready for that, not yet. Another hit, then another. Several of them came with even timing, some on Legolas' upper thighs but most around his buttocks.

"If you're good for me, I won't have to do this."

Being good involved Legolas staying in the palace, obeying his father's orders and being the perfect little Prince Thranduil knew he could be. Legolas could be tough and delicate at once when he needed to, and Thranduil found himself even more aroused as he saw his son's vulnerable body tremble a bit.

When he was finished, he cast the flogger aside and picked up Legolas in his arms.

Legolas slowly drifted back to reality, convulsively trembling as he was lifted with utmost care. His eyes were dazed and unfocused like that of a spooked animal, physically unable to block out the searing pain that now shot through him anew. The Prince couldn't even remember if he had cried out when the first few swats had hit him, trying to focus on counting the strikes instead. In the beginning, he had been shocked at the sheer, precise brutality they had been delivered with, making the Prince writhe in agony but then, all of a sudden, he no longer seemed to care about the fact that the flexible tails of the flogger had pierced his skin hard enough to draw a little blood atop some of the more pronounced, stinging welts. No, at some point his mind had slipped into a comfortable state of miraculous headspace, his tortured body no longer truly acknowledging the excruciating anguish but bringing back both Legolas' boner and libido, let alone the maddening desire for his Ada.

Somewhere in the distance Legolas could hear Thranduil whispering soothing words into his pointy ear, some full of appreciation, others rich with dark and dirty promises. The Prince soon found himself supine on the silken sheets, the fine material calming his irritated skin as the burning sensation slowly subsided.

'I'm sorry, Ada.' Legolas muttered weakly, not recalling why he was actually apologising, it just felt right to do so. An adorable blush crept back onto his cheeks when he watched Thranduil hovering over him, his father's ethereal beauty taking his breath away yet again.

Hovering above his son, Thranduil dipped his face into Legolas' neck. There he breathed in, licking and kissing all the way up to the Prince's pretty cheeks. He then sampled Legolas' sweet lips in a kiss far too delicate for any overexcited elf. Low, muffled moans escaped him along with breathy gasps and a slight grinding of his body against Legolas.

"Please me and I shall forgive you." said Thranduil, crawling back while staring at his son, beckoning him with the power of his mind it seemed. He sat, then leaned back. One finger gestured. "I know you love to taste me, ion nin."

There was more behind his desire to have his son's mouth around his cock than just pleasure. His delicious, creamy come was the most nutritious thing Legolas could eat and would heal every ache in his body if applied correctly. Inside him it would offer wondrous health benefits and truthfully, Thranduil only wished to see his son well. Happy. Content. It was safer that way, when his every need was taken care of - no need to go out and fight if he could be pampered at home! Thranduil spread his legs, his hard length pointing right at his son.

Legolas literally purred at Thranduil's wicked ministrations, arching into the King's every tender touch and reciprocating best his inexperienced mind and body advised him to on instinct.

"I would do anything to please you, Ada." The Prince breathed faithfully, propping himself on his elbows. Pupils dilating with a powerful pull of lecherous magic, Legolas' darkened eyes attentively followed his beautiful father as the ancient elf snaked his way to the foot of the bed in the most seductive and tantalising way. For a few seconds, the Prince simply watched in awe, utterly mesmerised by Thranduil's incredible allure and incomparable beauty.

' _God heavens, I am so privileged to have his affection bestowed upon me_.' Legolas thought to himself. The Prince's face then flushed with rekindled desire at Thranduil's nonverbal command, begging him closer and leaving his young son utterly thrilled at the prospect of being able to taste his father's delicious come once again. Recalling the sweet taste, Legolas licked his lips excitedly.

Hurriedly scurrying into place between his Ada's strong, spread thighs, Legolas instantly started worshipping the King's throbbing length by raining a row of feather-light kisses and timid licks along the regal shaft. The young Prince had never done anything like this before, so he was grateful when he suddenly felt his father's demanding hand at the back of his head for...reassurance (or so he thought), guiding his son's ambitious endeavours.

Legolas then delved the tip of his pink little tongue into the small slit of his Ada's bulbous cock head, intent on lapping away the glistening pre-cum that had formed there. Startled by the guttural mewls his lewd actions elicited from his father, Legolas looked up, doe-eyed and stupidly innocent. However, it were sounds of bliss as the Prince soon realised, so he beamed contentedly up at the slightly trembling King, his mouth never losing contact with Thranduil's heated, bobbing flesh.

' _I'm so happy I can please you, Adar_...'

Although delighted to have probably earned his father's forgiveness, Legolas was now growing a little impatient, eager to taste the King's delicious fluid again. The Prince knew nothing of the health benefits that the gooey substance held, no, being the spoiled brat he was, the younger elf was solely craving it for its teeth-rotting sweetness and the soothing effect it had had on him the last time he tried it. Hence, Legolas started sucking on Thranduil's length like a man dying from thirst would suck on a straw, avid for the redemptive liquid.

Legolas' kissing and sucking thrilled Thranduil's wanton body so greatly that the King thought his son was made for this. While inexperienced, Legolas had just the right amount of heat and pressure to bring him to completion. He had however waited long enough holding back and without warning, jerked forth. He stuffed his cock down his son's throat and did not leave room for Legolas to accommodate it, clutching Legolas' soft hair in a tight grip. Pushed balls-deep he spilled a thick torrent of creamy white come into Legolas' throat, coating the ridges and for a moment, soothing any pain and tension. He twitched as more gushed out, moaning with eyes shut and brows scrunched together.

"Aiiii...!" he cried as he smoothed out his son's hair, fingers dipping low to stroke the back of Legolas' head. "I...ion nin... Mmh, take it... all of it..."

In his lengthy, orgasmic haze he thought of two things: how precious and right Legolas looked down there, lips stretched wide and his body an open, receiving vessel. Also... how strong he would become if he took a sweet load like this on a daily basis. Thranduil could think of nothing better than filling up his son from any and all orifices, sharing in mutual love and pleasure.

Bulging in outright shock, Legolas' eyes watered at the unexpected and momentarily painful intrusion of his throat. He panicked for a second, desperately trying to retreat on instinct, but to no avail. The iron grip of his father's hand on the back of his head held him tightly in place, continuing to cut off the Princes' air supply, making Legolas gag repeatedly. He started to feel a little dizzy.

Gulping reflexively around the King's huge invasive length, Legolas gave a few pitiful, choked sounds before his nose was eventually nestled against his father's soft abdomen. The Prince then swallowed frantically around Thranduil's girth in a clumsy attempt to gasp for air, unaware that the contraction of his throat muscles would trigger just the reaction his Ada desired.

Egged on by the grunts of pleasure from above him, Legolas swallowed again, his eyebrows nearly reaching into his hairline in surprise when all of a sudden his sore and abused ridges were soothed with a seemingly endless amounts of Thranduil's sweet, hot essence. This time however, he didn't budge from the alien feeling, his cravings for the forbiddingly delicious globs of come stirred anew. Obediently, Legolas gulped down every drop, humming happily around the King's cock as he felt his tummy expand at an alarming rate.

' _Nggghh_.' Legolas shuddered, his own erection poking demandingly into his oversized belly, his angry red cock ready to burst from the highly addicting experience of being manhandled, humiliated and the obscene come inflation that had been bestowed upon him by his Ada.

Thranduil took one look at his son and groaned. "Such a good boy." he purred, kneeling whilst holding his son at crotch level by the hair. He wiped his cock left and right against Legolas' cheeks, the wetness there streaking both tears and come together. "Look how beautiful you are with my essence upon your face. I shall feed you this every day, ion nin. It will be good for you." He then released Legolas' hair, pushing him onto his side. Hovering over him, he smirked. "You hunger for me, I know. But you have not earned my forgiveness yet."

He slipped off the bed in a single, graceful motion still hard and and ready for anything. From his open cabinet he took out a fine golden ring, too big for fingers but just the right size to fit on a cock. Legolas', specifically. "You will not find release unless I will it. Understand?"

The Prince darted out his little pink tongue to lick away the remnants of the pearly white strings of come on his flushed cheeks, the usually super sweet taste now having a tear induced, slightly salty flavour to it. Approvingly, his stained lips formed a contented smile when he heard his father's promise of regular doses of the King's addictive essence to be bestowed upon him in the future. And even on a daily basis! Legolas couldn't help but rejoice at that prospect, his mind seemingly 100% corrupted by now.

The young elf's heavy, cum-flooded belly gurgled happily when Thranduil rolled his horny young son gently to his side to rest upon the cosy bedspread. Eyes half-lidded with pent-up desire Legolas then bucked his hips involuntarily when his Ada hovered over him, so desperate for eventually being stuffed to the rim with thick regal cock, still without fully realising it. Oh, that wicked magic!

Legolas gave a somewhat impatient groan as he watched the King fetch an item from his kinky cabinet, all the while blatantly ogling at his father's enticingly muscular backside and proudly jutting erection. The young elf eyed the shiny trinket curiously as it was carefully slid over the tip of the Prince's leaking cockhead, then to be rolled down his shaft. Meanwhile, Thranduil wrapped his slender fingers around the his son's cock just beneath the crown and gave it a little tug, stretching out his son's member until the restrictive device was firmly situated around the base. Letting go of Legolas' cock, the Prince felt the full impact of the golden ring, pressure building deliciously as the blood started to accumulate. His already painfully engorged hard-on seemed to increase even more due to the blood drainage, making Legolas writhe in pained pleasure, his craving to be filled slowly driving him insane.

"Understood." The Prince breathed hoarsely, his virgin pucker twitching in anticipation. "I shall bow to your every whim, just assuage this raging desire, I beg of you! Otherwise, I fear it might burn me from the inside out if you don't help me." Legolas pleaded, his wording awkward but insistent.

Thranduil grabbed hold of his son's shaft suddenly and leaned in to whisper to him. "You will feel this desire for me until it consumes you, ion nin." His own slick length pressed into Legolas' ass from behind, not yet entering but teasing at it. "I will hold you, and take you as my own. For that is what you are. My precious little Prince."

Without hesitation he pushed himself into his son's fresh, hot ass like sticking a knife into a bread roll. And he began to rock. Back and forth, up and down, seeking his own pleasure with a firm grip on Legolas' cock to prevent him from spilling himself too soon. He knew it was absolute torture but that was what made this all the more delicious to him - that he had all the control over his son's body this way, and to some degree even his mind. He thought to himself, 'Just what might Legolas look like if he were an utter slave to pleasure... and to me?'

Still somewhat dazed, the younger elf gasped as he was first turned roughly onto his bulging belly, then positioned to his hands and needs. His half-length hair partially blocked his view as his head was forced down to the mattress unceremoniously.

"Gaaaaaaaah! Adaaaaa!?" An ear-splitting scream escaped Legolas' trembling lips at the King's sudden forceful intrusion, liberating indeed yet a testimony of unexpected pain nonetheless. Magic swirled about like crazy as the King's ivory body flexed over the small frame of his only heir, whirls of particles of light and glittering stars dancing about the room as if celebrating their triumph of eventually succeeding in luring father and son into succumbing to their forbidden carnal desire for each other.

It took only a few seconds for the Prince's initial shock to subside before the youth fully surrendered to the rhythmic pounding of his no longer virgin ass. Apparently all of the King's precious self-control had deserted him, viciously slamming his huge hardness into his writhing son at just the right angle, heavy balls slapping against the Prince's pale skin.

Lost beneath his Ada's pummeling, it was just now that Legolas realised that he was openly crying. Not necessarily from the stinging stretch though, thanks to his flexible Elven physique the tight channel of his arse was self-lubricating, gushing with aiding fluids (and in this case a little blood as well) to ease the way for whatever girth demanded entry, given the recipient was willing. And willing Legolas was. Very much so.

No, he was crying from both relief this long craved for consummation was finally happening and the excruciating tremors that wrecked his body as his very first dry orgasm hit him all too soon. It was only natural that Legolas would not last long under the onslaught of Thranduil riding his body this unmercifully and despite the Prince's pucker squishing wetly in approval that wicked golden ring and the King's relentless hand around Legolas' pulsing cock had him mewling with discomfort as it effectively prevented his much desired release.

The sounds Legolas made all blended together in a whirl of glorious song to Thranduil's ears. How he loved to hear his son moan, cry and beg!

"That's it, my precious..." he sighed, thrusts becoming erratic and hips jerking about "Let the whole forest hear how much you want me."

For most of his life, Thranduil had been used to being wanted. By his father, beloved. By his servants, who doted upon him for reasons he cared little about. Now by his son, who he saw as eager for a nice, satisfying fuck and an ass full of nourishing sweetness.

"Mmmmmm..." Thranduil pressed his shapely lips together, closing his eyes. He restrained little and let out much even as his son was made brainless with pleasure, overstimulated and full.

The King's climax came when the hand holding Legolas' aching cock brushed against hot flesh, and Thranduil felt his son's stomach against his knuckles.

 _'He's going to grow nice and healthy now, as I feed and bestow to him these gifts..._ '

It brought him such joy to know what he was doing to his son, all that he knew was right and pure in intent. He came deep into Legolas' ass, the tip of his cock brushing the Prince's sensitive prostate before flooding everywhere with come. Deep, bestial moans spilled from his lips as did heavy gasps and sighs. His hair stuck to his face, neck and back as he'd worked up quite a sweat, vigorously fucking his son. He stilled and released his hand from Legolas' length, nudging the ring at the tip as he did so.

It was his silent permission for Legolas to find his own peak.

Legolas' pleading whimpers came to a sudden halt when the golden ring was abruptly removed. The intense sensation almost knocked the Prince out for a moment, making him desperately want to cling to Thranduil as if his life depended on it, seeking the comfort of the King's embrace like father and son wont to for over a millennium. However, due to his current angle this was not possible. Instead, Legolas clawed his fingernails into his own palms until he broke the skin when the blood in his nether regions started to rush back into the Prince's straining cock at merciless speed, catapulting the helpless younger elf to blissful orgasmic heights.

He didn't even notice coating his meanwhile undeniably protruding belly in royal white, the remnants of the Prince's awareness sensing nothing but the delicious feeling of his rear being stuffed beyond belief, both his belly and formerly tight channel stretching to its current limits as it was flooded with torrent after torrent of his Ada's copious, rich cum.

Void of forming a coherent thought or word, Legolas went slack in exhaustion underneath his Ada's slick, flexing body. Never in his life had he been that satisfied.

Thranduil rested where he was for a few moments before reaching to grab something he had under his pillow. In a single, swift movement he parted his son's ass cheeks and slipped his cock out, replacing it with something a little smaller. A flexible plug made of specially treated tree-sap now found a tight, welcoming home inside Legolas' body. It soon heated up to match the Prince's body temperature, and its intricate base ensured it would not get lost inside. Thranduil's finger circled his son's entrance as he leaned in to whisper.

"This will keep you nice and full of all that I have given you... and your body will absorb it." He licked Legolas' ear, sucking on it for a few minutes as he thought of what else needed to be done. Ah! How could he forget?

Hesitant to remove himself from Legolas, he rolled over and reached into his open cabinet. He took a plug for himself and quickly stuffed his ass, wriggling around to get it in right. He did not want to mess the sheets with his own sweet juices that flowed from his accidental arousal... Certain dreams had him dripping wet and ready for a good, hard fuck. Those were only fantasies, but ended up drenching his bed in powerful pheromones.

Thranduil curled back against his son's back, stroking Legolas' stomach. He closed his eyes and felt the soft, warm and smooth skin. "Mmm.."

The Prince simply snuggled into the loving embrace in approval, too overwhelmed by what had just transpired to utter a single word. A small smile tugged at his lips when he felt the King pat Legolas' well-rounded tummy, dissipating all subconscious fears the prince harboured about his lately dramatically changed belly size.

' _Gees, I look like some pregnant elleth_.' Legolas inwardly chuckled to himself. 'But honestly I don't mind that look. It's plush and comfortable and for some odd reason Ada seems to enjoy it a lot, so it can't be that wrong, aye?' The young elf thought to himself in perfect subservience, the corruption of his mind eventually complete.

Legolas started to immediately relax around the plug, happy that the nutritious spunk had no change of escaping. If he had not been so exhausted, the plugging of his ass would have stirred a new wave of desire in the pretty Prince but as it was, Legolas simply drifted into content, dreamless sleep.

It was only early afternoon, leaving the royal family enough time to recover before the great feast that was upon them tonight.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sooooo, eventually the magic got what it wanted!^^ We hope you enjoyed this very first encounter of King and Prince? Please let us know in the comments, aye?! :D Also, we're far from finished with this story, now that father and son have succumbed to each other, there's plenty more of naughty exploring coming your way, dear reader. *winks* If you'd like to see anything in specific, let us know and we'll consider it. Deliciously kinky elf orgy coming up next, so stay tuned. :D


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